No Strings Attached
by Out-Of-Control-Authoress
Summary: They are not Hogwarts-bound exchange students, nor are they teachers of magical arts. They are purely prisoners of war, thrown into a dangerous new world that they didn't know existed. There are no alliances here. There are no strings attached. YGOxHP
1. The Dark Lord Cometh

I have, once again, found myself enjoying the wonders of Yu-Gi-Oh. Yeah. There's not much to say as of right now, so I suppose I'll get on to the semi-important crap. Oh! This fic takes place during HP year 7, and takes place during the Orichalcos incident. This is what Malik and Bakura were doing. This story replaces all traces of the Millennium World saga, simply because of the timeline of this story.

Summary: Things rarely go as planned. Ryou, Yami Bakura, and Malik knew this well, and they expected it. They didn't expect, however, for their paths to cross once more with danger and plunge them into a desperate world in need of saving...the world of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Disclaimer: If I owned Yu-Gi-Oh, Yami Bakura would be my sex slave. X3

_-Ryou to Bakura-_

_"Bakura to Ryou"_

Chapter One

The Dark Lord Cometh

"Damn it Malik, drive!" The five-thousand year old spirit of the Millennium Ring shouted over the roar of the motorcycle. Brilliant jets of green, red, and blue lights shot past them. The lights probably would have hit them too, if it weren't for Malik's unpredictable driving.

The farms lining the typically deserted country road fell behind them as they sped down the long street. Bakura wasn't absolutely sure, but he could have sworn Malik was driving _over_ the maximum speed limit of the bike. Judging from the wheezing of the engine, they were definitely close to maxing out the vehicle.

Malik turned his head and said something to Bakura, but his words were lost between the whipping wind, sputtering engine, and 'whooshes' of lights that flew past them at unnatural speeds.

"What?" Bakura called, and Malik blinked for a second, before repeating whatever he'd said. "I can't read lips whilst on a speeding vehicle, Malik!"

Malik rolled his eyes, or at least the one Bakura could see, and shouted back, "I said: these things those guys are shooting are travelling faster than the speed of freaking light!"

"No shit, Sherlock! They're jets of light, aren't they?"

"Shut up and let me drive!" Malik growled, chastised by Bakura's snappy comment. Bakura almost missed the comment due to the other noises that commanded his ears' attention. His ruby eyes snapped back to the road that was disappearing beneath them.

Bakura dared a glance backwards at their followers, and daresay he felt like he was in some cartoon chase-scene. The men - or he assumed they were all men - were dressed up in black cloaks that completely covered them and wore ridiculous masks of some sort of human skull. It was quite tacky, really. Bakura did a better job of scaring people without the stupid mask-and-cloak getup. What was even more ridiculous was the fact that they were chasing the two males on broomsticks. Yes, broomsticks.

The lights of London were coming up ahead of them, and Bakura could feel a lift of relief. These weirdos would have a tougher time attacking them in a busy city than they would out here in the deserted country areas of Britain.

Bakura reminded himself never to go on a road trip with Malik ever again.

A week and a half ago, Malik and Ryou had planned some stunt to go on a road trip around England. Ryou mostly wanted to see his home country again, Malik just wanted to do something interesting and spontaneous. Spontaneity and Malik tended to go hand-in-hand on most occasions.

The two had then proceeded to pack their duffel bags and jump onto a plane. It wasn't until they were mid-flight that Bakura realized exactly where they were going and what was going on. He'd been dozing off for a few days. He figured that he got what he deserved, because you don't just not pay attention when Ryou and Malik are within one hundred yards of each other.

Jeez, and the Pharaoh complained about Malik and _him_. Malik and Ryou were...perish the thought, it wasn't worth his time.

Anyways, their road trip had started off all well and good, until they got to the charming city of London about two days ago. Once they'd managed to secure themselves a room with two beds that wasn't impossibly expensive, they'd set off to do some touring around the famous city. Yesterday, the two had happened upon some old rundown pub called the Leaky Cauldron. When Ryou had asked a passerby why the windows were boarded up even though a few people had gone into the little pub, the man had tipped his hat and said that the pub was long deserted, and Ryou must've been seeing a trick of the light. Good old British folk didn't just wander into empty pubs, after all.

Well, that little bit of information had sparked some interest in Malik, even though Ryou had deemed it a horrible idea. The Egyptian had proceeded to sneak into the little abandoned pub, and both Malik and Ryou had been astonished to find that it was indeed occupied. It was perfectly clean inside, with a bartender sitting in a rickety old chair behind the bar. His eyes were sunken and his skin sallow, as if life and stress hadn't been particularly kind to him. His last wisps of hair were a perfect silver, and he looked like he might've been presentable in the past.

The man had barely noticed Ryou and Malik's entry, and had ignored them after mumbling the words "Hello, m'name's Tom. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron." in the most unwelcome voice imaginable.

Malik had been slightly perturbed by this odd man's sullen behavior, and had prodded Ryou into exploring with him. They'd taken a quick sweep of the lower level, choosing to ignore what must've been an inn of sorts upstairs, and had proceeded right out the back door, even with Ryou protesting against the entire operation.

Once they'd exited the depressing little pub, both males had been very shocked to see an entire street lined with a wide assortment of shops on the other side of a blown-open brick wall. The shops were all dusty and cold, with boarded up windows and 'closed' signs. In the centre of the street stood a large wooden sign proclaiming 'Diagon Alley, Wizarding Street of Wonders.' It'd been a bold proclamation, considering the 'ghost town' state of the entire place.

Ryou had then decided that it was absolutely necessary that the both of them leave this odd place, but Malik being Malik had wanted to look around some more. Against the white-haired boy's will, he'd been dragged down the deserted street, forced to explore the remains of brightly coloured awnings that had been torn down, tables and chairs of cafes that'd been torn limb from limb, and cope with the feeling that something very bad had happened here.

Things just went downhill fast from there.

A group of men in black cloaks and skull masks had paraded out of a shop, dragging a dirty, sickly looking woman out with them. Upon spotting Ryou and Malik, they'd begun screaming obscenities and threats for them to 'get lost' or 'scram'. Or else.

Bakura hadn't liked that kind of treatment, and had promptly taken over Ryou's body and told the little cult of cloaked freaks just exactly where they could go should they threaten him again. The cloaks had definitely not liked _that_, and had proceeded to drop the injured lady and start chasing Bakura and Malik.

They'd been assaulted by an onslaught of beams of light, which both Millennium Item holders assumed were spells of some sort. That had prompted both males to literally start running for their lives, Malik the entire time cursing Bakura's need for causing mayhem. Bakura had calmly pointed out, while dodging a wide array of colourful spells, that the entire situation was to the fault of Malik's insatiable curiosity.

Then he used the ever-so-cliche line: curiosity killed the cat.

Once the two males had managed to escape onto the streets of London, where busy people milled about on their nightly tasks, both Malik and Bakura realized that they were no longer being chased. Malik had sworn off of meandering into little abandoned pubs from that day forward.

Bakura thought that he was full of it, and would probably do so again within the span of a week.

It was only after they'd managed to get back to the inn where they were staying that Bakura finally relinquished control back to Ryou, who was completely in shock about the entire ordeal. They'd fallen into a very brief, very fitful sleep after that.

Their relaxation had been interrupted, however, when their door was banged on in the wee hours of the morning. Malik had told whoever was outside to come back later, but the banging continued. Both males had groggily gotten dressed and answered the door. Much to their shock, that group of cloaked men stood before them, demanding their arrests immediately. Bakura had then slammed shut the door, having shoved Ryou back into his soul room for protection, and safeguarded it with Shadow Magic. Bakura told Malik to pack their duffels, and they'd both done so with great haste in record timing.

Then they made their grand escape out of the window of the inn, and down onto the roof of a two-story building. They'd managed to break into the car garage to salvage Malik's motorcycle when the cloaks appeared again. Malik and Bakura had driven through the group, and had been driving since four AM that morning up until ten o'clock that very night.

Yeah, life sucks sometimes. They were still being chased by the cloaked men, who were definitely not relenting in their man hunt. Bakura cursed their existences, mostly because he'd been robbed of a decent night's sleep, and no one, absolutely _no one_stole anything from Bakura and lived to tell the tale.

"What are we doing when we get into the city?" Malik cried, hoping dearly that the ancient spirit had an idea of sorts.

Bakura grinned conspiratorially, "We ditch your bike."

"What?" Malik called. He hadn't heard Bakura's words, but he'd heard the tone, and whatever Bakura was cooking up was notably evil.

Bakura rolled his eyes, "We're ditching your bike somewhere!" He repeated, but louder this time.

Malik's eyes widened as he glanced back at the spirit, "Hell to the no! I paid a fucking fortune for this bike! We're not just going to ditch it."

"Okay, then we'll park it somewhere, and beat it down London on foot." Bakura told the Egyptian irritably.

"We're going to be in like the ghetto of London, though! No one's ever out at this time there, we'll be sitting ducks!" Malik protested, and Bakura could feel Ryou's own protests to the idea beating at the back of their shared mind.

"We'll be running ducks," Bakura corrected, "And does London even have a ghetto?"

"Yeah, but it's like uptown for most people!" Malik replied, letting loose a mad howl of excitement as he revved the engine and sped up a little. His violet eyes were as wild as his wind-blown hair. He looked a little deranged, actually.

Bakura clicked his tongue in annoyance just as a jet of green light almost skinned the side of his face. Malik swerved the bike and glanced over his shoulder, "You okay?" The Egyptian called.

"It's nice to hear that you care," Bakura replied dryly, but his sarcasm was shattered as another spell whizzed past his head. "Now focus!" He shouted as Malik's bike veered around a big metal can that would've been their demise had it not been spotted. Bakura gritted his chattering teeth, jerking on the rib cage that he'd captured in his steely grasp in an effort to survive the entire escape. He wanted Malik to know that he wasn't pleased...not at all.

"I'm not ditching my bike in the London ghettos!" Malik suddenly declared, finding his voice again.

Bakura hissed slightly, "Do we have a choice?"

"Yes, we do!"

The bike hit city streets, and suddenly instead of farms they were passing buildings. As Malik had predicted, the streets were totally deserted besides a window with a light on here and there. Bakura bit his lip, having to recalculate his previous plans. He'd been counting on spectators.

The spells continued their onslaught, and Bakura had to slam Malik's head down as a spell went jetting over their heads. Malik protested, but wasn't too worked up about Bakura saving his hide.

That was when Bakura's worst fears became reality. The bike let out a sickly sputtering cough and started to slow down, a stream of thick, black smoke billowing out of the exhaust pipe. The engine's whirring sounds started to grow quieter.

"Malik!" Bakura shouted, eyes widening in horror, "Can you fix this?"

Malik's blonde locks swayed as he shook his head, just as horrified, "C'mon baby," He cooed to the motorcycle, "Don't die on daddy now..."

When Bakura realized that the bike was barely going 10 miles and hour, he took the opportunity to knock both of them from the seat, sending them tumbling onto the streets of London. It was a given that they'd have lots of bruises in the morning.

Malik rolled onto his knees and coughed, "What the hell, Bakura?" He cried out, rubbing around his skinned elbow, which was bleeding out crimson at that point.

Bakura ignored Malik's grumblings and wrenched the protesting Egyptian onto his feet, "Let's go!" He commanded, and they both tore down the first alley they could see.

"Hurry, before they get away!" One of the guys yelled, and Bakura bit his cheek at the nasally, whiny sound of the man's voice. It wouldn't be a good idea to burst into hysterics when one was fleeing from a psychotic mask-wearing cult.

Malik was attempting to run and nurse his wounded elbow at the same time. Bakura would have called him a pansy over a cut so shallow, but he held his tongue when he saw that Malik looked more like he was pissed off than in agonizing pain. Bakura caught the tail end of a few choice Arabic curses, and he had to snicker in appreciation. It was some seriously creative use of cussing Malik was exercising.

"There they are!" One sneered, and Bakura had the slightest inkling of a feeling that the man resembled a rat. He sure sounded like one.

"_Crucio_!"

Malik glimpsed the curse shooting at Bakura, and kicked his white-haired friend out of the way just as the curse sailed right through what had previously been the spirit's middle. Bakura muttered a word of thanks as they met up again and turned down another alley that was slick with water and grease.

_-Yami, we're not going to survive this, are we?-_

_"Do you really want to hear my answer?"_

_-...thought so.-_

_"Yeah. We're fucked."_

Malik had pulled out the Millennium Rod, and had gotten a wisp of the mind-conversation between the yami and hikari. He hissed at the spirit in frustration, "We're _not_ fucked. Not yet." He snarled, his eyes going hard as coals, yet determined as twin raging violet fires.

Bakura threw his hands up in mock surrender as they dashed around another corner, "I was simply stating my views."

"Well, don't." Malik snapped.

Apparently the lack of sleep was getting to all party members.

The darkness curled around them as Malik summoned as much shadows as he could in the very concentration-breaking situation. It merged with the darkness of the night, aiding the stealth maneuver. The Eye of Horus appeared on his forehead; bright, golden, and shining like a tacky neon sign.

"I like your thinking." Bakura told his friend with a dark, malicious grin as he too summoned the shadows. The Eye materialized on his forehead also, and they began pumping their legs, pushing the exhausted muscles to their absolute limit.

The cloaked men definitely didn't see it coming when their entire bodies were immobilized by the shadows, stuck in a temporary stranglehold of gray darkness. Bakura sneered at them over his shoulder, but put his attitude in check when he regarded Malik, "The shadows won't hold for long."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

Malik answered anyways. "I doubt it, but we should get a better head start now." Malik was wondering why he hadn't thought of immobilizing them in shadows before. Oh yeah, they did, and it didn't do all that much damage.

"Yeah, like that's going to help them with their bewitched broomsticks." They broke onto the main street, the dark sidewalks still totally deserted, "Remind me never to go on a road trip with you again."

Malik sneered at his comrade, "It wasn't _you_ I invited. You just happened to be an unwanted parasite that couldn't be removed."

"It heartens me to know that you love me so much."

"Whoa tiger, I don't swing that way. I'll have to take a rain check." Malik jibed, grinning saucily at his own joke.

"You're all tongue-and-cheek aren't you?"

"It's my best weapon." Malik replied breathlessly.

"I thought your best weapon was your Rod." Bakura deadpanned, just as tired as his Egyptian friend was.

Malik grimaced slightly as they continued running. It was amazing what adrenaline could do to allow a guy to run and converse at the same time, "I already told you that I don't swing that way."

"Your _Millennium_ Rod, you dolt."

"Oh."

The conversation ended then and there, and the sounds of their panting filled the empty space that'd been previously occupied by good-natured prodding conversation. It wasn't a very warm occupant, however, since they were both suddenly reminded that they were on the run from a bunch of lunatics that put Bakura and Malik's weird heists to shame.

Suddenly a shadowy form began to materialize about ten feet ahead of them. The two kept running towards it, however, misguided in what it was.

When Malik saw the form of a man begin to take shape, he swallowed uneasily, "Bakura, did you learn a new trick...?" He asked, the hopefulness in his voice showing pathetically. He was practically whining. He knew they were in trouble.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." The spirit spat, knowing they'd lost.

_-Oh my god...-_ Ryou whispered, looking through Bakura's eyes.

Bakura summed up the three's feelings very nicely in two very short, very sweet words:

"Well, shit."

End Chapter

Yes, the title was a play on the 'Dark One Cometh' from the Millennium World of YuGiOh. No, this has nothing to do with Millennium World. Yes, Bakura is a little more subdued than one would expect. Yes, he is like that for a reason. I believe that Bakura does not beat Ryou, as that was never truly stated in either the manga or the anime (this is speaking purely of my own knowledge, not on rock-solid fact), so I don't think that he's quite as vicious and sadistic as the fanfics make him out to be. I think he's definitely a little crazy, but I think he's a little more wry around Ryou and Malik. After all, he hates the Pharaoh with a fiery burning passion, so obviously he's not going to crack jokes at him. He doesn't half-mind Malik, and his opinion of Ryou isn't particularly well-developed in the real Yu-Gi-Oh, so this is definitely embellishment on my part.

I'm using my creative license, okay?

Drop a review on your way out, please! Feed this attention-starved authoress! X3


	2. Imprisoned

I want to thank _Jerex _and _Comicbookfan _for reviewing. I really appreciated it, guys (Girls? Guy and Girl?). Anywhoo, I just want to point out, in response to _Jerex_'s review, that this fic **is not yaoi. **Just wanted to get that out there, because I don't write yaoi. Sure, I read it, and I'm a total fan-girl, but I just don't write it. Sorry, to those who really, really wanted it, but it's just not happenin'.

Disclaimer: If I told you that I owned YuGiOh, would you make an attempt on my life...? (Lol, but I still don't own it...not yet at least...mwahaha...)

Chapter Two

Imprisoned

The only way that the pale man in the black robe could be easily described would be to say that he looked like a snake. His entire face was shaped like he had a human-sized snake skull. His eyes were sunken in deep into his head, and his nose was long and curved. His lips were very thin, almost invisible, as they were the same colour as his white skin. He had no ears, only holes on the sides of his bald head. His eyes had cat-like pupils.

Bakura had to admit, they guy had the whole intimidating look down to a freaking 'T'.

The man's feet touched the ground just as the cloaked guys came tearing out of an alleyway, blocking Bakura and Malik's other escape option. Bakura snarled under his breath. This definitely did not bode well for all three of them.

"Misters Bakura and Ishtar. It's very pleasant to finally meet...the both of you." His voice was as slippery and snake-like as his appearance. The way he spoke...it was both conniving and enticing at the same time. It was like he could manufacture a silken web of lies and make you believe every single word of it.

Bakura didn't like that.

The snake-man continued, "I am called You-Know-Who, the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort..." His red snake eyes snapped to Bakura's face. They made steely eye contact, and Voldemort's face twisted into a grinning sneer, "But the both of you may refer to me as...simply _Master."_

The spirit of the Ring growled. It was a low, dangerous sound in his throat, "I will refer to you as nothing of the sort." He spat, eyes a more vibrant reddish hue than Voldemort's but a similar shade nonetheless. Bakura immediately cursed himself for being a spirit, simply for the resemblance to this freak.

Voldemort's sneer returned, but it was more malicious this time, "I would suggest that you do not behave as such in my presence, fool, unless you have a death wish."

"I am already dead, you mortal child, as you likely already knew." Bakura challenged, baring his teeth to show off pointed canines.

"If you call me a child once more, _Mister _Bakura, I shall cut out your tongue and then murder the body you possess. Do you wish for your foolishness to be the death of the _mortal child _you have acted as a parasite to?" Voldemort's voice had returned to its eerie, slick calm. It was a little disturbing, actually, how his face was completely unreadable; emotionless aside from the small upward curve of his lips. His cruel smile.

The words struck a chord, and Voldemort knew it. Bakura's face went totally blank, and Malik had to finger his Rod to actually catch a glimpse of whatever the spirit was plotting.

When the spirit did not speak, Malik took up the torch with vigor, "Bakura and I have no business with you, _Lord _Voldemort . Please, allow us to carry on with our business. We're just touring the country, nothing more."

"I know that, Mister Ishtar," Voldemort replied, a little smugness worming its way into his creepy facade, "But fortune smiles upon me that such powerful sorcerers stand in my midst. You walked into a _war_ Mister Ishtar, and war is not fair, nor does it take kindly to those such as yourself."

"We know nothing of your war." Malik assured the snake-man, his voice hardening.

Voldemort let out a bark of laughter that sounded more like a cackle, "Lack of knowledge does not pardon you from the fact that you still _walked into_ this war. You just happened to walk in on the...wrong side."

"So I take it that you're the aggressor, and most likely a murderer also?" Malik queried in a deadpan tone, cocking a blonde eyebrow. Keeping up conversation could allow them a chance to get away.

"No more than you are yourself, Mister Ishtar." Even when Malik's face twisted into a snarl of hatred and rage, Voldemort continued on, unfazed, "Oh yes. We know all about you, Mister Ishtar. You led a ragtag group called the Rare Hunters, who fashioned themselves much like my Death Eaters." The snake waved a hand to indicate the cloaked men, who all remained dutifully silent, "But, unlike me, you failed...Mister Ishtar. You failed to achieve the power you so wrongly desired. The power of a Pharaoh, was it not? You wanted command of the Millennium Items. Tell me, how many Items are there? A hundred? A thousand?"

"Two." Malik corrected. He was lying through his teeth, but he had to protect the other Bearers, "There used to be three, but the Puzzle was destroyed in an accident. The Bearer of the Puzzle no longer exists, and the Pharaoh has passed on."

Voldemort outright cackled this time, "Mister Istar, I commend you for you attempts, but do not insult me by assuming that I am a fool!" He sounded evilly amused by Malik's words, "I know of the Puzzle's existence, and I know that Yugi Mouto is quite alive."

Malik's stomach dropped to his toes. Yugi was screwed.

"Do not look so worried, Mister Ishtar. I assure you, I will not go about searching for this Yugi Mouto. I do not have any interest in wielding your magic. I am not so power-hungry to assume that I can control ancient magics that are destined to only be wielded once every five thousand years. You can rest easily." Voldemort explained, that creepy smile replaced on his face by a very dark smirk.

"Then what, pray tell, are your qualms with us?" Malik asked, "You obviously know we are Item Bearers, so why do you seek us?"

The snake chuckled, "I may not be hunting you and your friends down, Mister Ishtar, but I will not pass up an opportunity when it so willingly walks into my embrace."

Malik's lip curled viciously, "I'm not a very huggy person." He quipped, but there was no humor in his tone.

"No matter," Voldemort said, waving Malik off, "You two will spend the remainder of your summer in the Malfoy Residence, under surveillance of course. I will stop in to visit you occasionally, for it will be interesting to see such powerful magic users when they are broken."

Malik and Bakura felt their arms grabbed and bound with rope. They couldn't stop it this time. Their Shadow Magic could not reach them. Malik had tried. Whoever this Voldemort guy was, he was interrupting the frequency that Shadow Magic travelled on to get to the human realm, whether he knew it or not.

"I will not be your slave." Malik growled darkly. It was a promise, "Nor will I become your fucking war tool."

Voldemort's sneer was evident once more, and Malik immediately began cursing the snake's existence to all the gods he knew the names of, "We shall see." The snake said calmly, before waving for his men to take the two.

One of the cloaked men behind Malik pulled out a long wooden stick that the Egyptian caught out of the corner of his eye. When Malik turned around to block whatever was getting stabbed at him, he was hit in the face with a jet of red, accompanied by the word _Crucio_.

Pain erupted through his body, making him convulse in agony. Bakura cussed and started yelling at the men to stop. Voldemort started laughing; his cold, slippery laugh echoing through every part of Malik's mind.

His world turned upside down and went black. The pain was replaced with sweet unconsciousness, and Malik knew no more.

* * *

"Malik, wake up."

Malik's eyelashes fluttered as he felt consciousness return to him. The light above him was bright, and he closed his eyes and groaned.

Someone slapped his head, and Malik hissed in pain. He put a hand above his eyes and tried to open them. Everything was out of focus, and there was a thick layer of fuzz around the edges of his vision. He murmured something that even he didn't hear, and turned over onto his side.

It was a bad idea. A sharp, agonizing jolt of pain shot up his body, and he found himself curling in on himself.

"Oh no! Malik, you need to get onto your back again!" Bakura? No, this was definitely not Bakura. "Those Death Eater guys got us pretty good. You've got a broken rib or two, and your wrist is totally fractured. A nice blonde lady came in and put your wrist in a cast, but I don't have a clue who she is."

Malik immediately noticed, aside from the pain, that his wrist was indeed entombed in a thick binding. There were two pieces of wood running from his wrist to his fingertips on both the back and front of his hand.

"Bastards..." Malik spat, feeling the haziness and fuzz start to lift from his sight. Ryou's concerned face swam into focus.

The Tomb Keeper groaned again and blinked profusely just for good measure. "What did they do to you?" He asked, remembering that Ryou referred to their attackers as having gotten both of them.

Ryou shrugged slightly, but winced a bit, "I'm pretty bruised up, but Yami managed to heal up the broken ankle with some Shadow Magic before he...well, I think it's just a bad sprain now."

"Yami's here?" Malik asked, still very confused.

Ryou blushed at the mistake, "Sorry, I meant _my _yami. I forget that he's commonly called Bakura by everyone except me."

Malik turned his head to examine the dank room they were in. They were, quite literally, in a dungeon.

"Okay, so did they crack your skull too?" Malik asked, peering around and shaking his head to dispel the last of the fuzziness. He gingerly slid his body up the wall so that he could be in a semi-comfortable sitting position. He hated lying down. He touched his bruised ribs gently, feeling the ever-present throbbing that made him wince.

Ryou shook his head in response, looking a little embarrassed, "They considered you more of a threat because you read minds. That's why they..." Ryou trailed off, his eyes going duller. Malik noticed the change, and was about to comment, when Ryou continued, "They blindfolded me, and took us into some house, and then we were brought down here. They put me to sleep when I got here, but they didn't knock me out like they did to you."

"What did they do, Ryou?" Malik asked warily, and suddenly he noticed the absence of a thick golden rod in his pocket. He felt around himself for a second, before stopping and staring blindly at the wall. "They took our Items." He murmured.

"They did." Ryou's eyes became very distant, and he appeared to be on the verge of tears, "I've been trying to contact Ya- Bakura, but I don't have a connection to the Ring unless I'm wearing it or it's really close to me." His hand slid to his chest, right over his heart, "I can feel a pull towards it, barely, but it's there."

"That's Bakura. He's trying to contact you physically, probably. In fact, it might be more of an instinctive reaction to being separated from him that's pulling you towards the Ring. You start to need your yami to survive after a while..." Malik's face contorted into a snarl, "A real Yami, I mean."

"Malik..."

Malik pursed his lips and waved Ryou off, throwing his friend an apologetic glance, "No worries. I was being pathetic. I guess that this whole Voldemort fiasco is kind of getting to me."

"It's because he reminds you of Him, isn't it?" Ryou murmured, hitting the nail on the head. He began to fidget around with his hands, tracing the surface of a rock he'd picked up from the floor. He kept his eyes averted from Malik's, those violet pools that spoke only stories of a haunted past.

"Yeah, Voldemort reminds me of Him." Malik admitted gruffly. He was thankful that Ryou ended the conversation there, choosing not to press for more conversation on the matter. He needed to sort out his muddled thoughts anyways.

Ryou suddenly let out a tiny chuckle, and Malik glanced up at his pale friend in curiosity. Maybe Ryou was going a little insane. "What's the joke?"

"I just can't believe that we leave Japan on a road trip, go all the way to England, and still manage to find ourselves in trouble. It just sounds so...so like us." Ryou's eyes were dancing with little sparkles of mirth. The entire situation was much to melancholy for any sort of real hysterics.

"Yeah, that's us," Malik agreed with a hint of venom in his voice, "Constantly joining the shit on its way to the fan."

"How eloquently put." Ryou kidded, wrinkling his nose.

Malik slid his long, tanned fingers over the purple bruising that marked his broken ribs. His injured arm was left lying limp at his side, unusable. "I can't believe it started bruising so fast..." Malik mused, more annoyed that curious at this point. He pressed down on the bruising, and along with the pain noticed the easily discernable bump of swelling.

"The swelling and bruising's going to get worse." Ryou reminded him, his face darkened with worry and empathy.

Malik waved him off again, "I've had worse."

"I know, that's why I'm worried that you're not going to lie down and let it heal." Ryou replied with that look in his eye that most nurses got whenever they had an incompliant patient. The almost-albino rubbed his face, smearing a line of soot along the bridge of his nose.

Malik shrugged, an action he instantly regretted, due to his rib cage, "Eh," He croaked through the throbbing, "I'm already sitting up."

"I gathered that."

The Egyptian cocked a blonde eyebrow, "Someone's getting cheekier. Bakura's beginning to rub off on you." Ryou having been exposed to Bakura had lit a change in the previously reclusive boy. It was nice to see that Bakura was affecting Ryou in a positive sense, instead of breeding another maniac.

Ryou shrugged, and Malik was jealous to note that he did not appear to feel pain from the simple action.

The hikari of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring stood up slowly, using a wall to prop himself against. He tested his ankle, gradually putting more and more weight on it. When he tried to stand without the wall for help, however, his ankle gave way on him and he fell to the ground, scraping his knees and cutting his hands. He bit his lip, tears springing at the corners of his eyes. Pain lanced through his leg, and his vision went a little hazy for a fraction of a second.

_"Ryou!"_

The hikari's eyes went wide, and his head snapped up. Malik watched him in confusion, "What is it?"

Ryou didn't answer the Egyptian.

_-Yami...? Is that you?-_

_"-re...ou...kay?"_

_-What...?- _Ryou blinked, but managed to figure out what his darkness had said. With a relieved sigh and a deep smile, he nodded. When he realized that Bakura could not see him nod, he blushed and spoke telepathically, _-I'm fine.-_

_"Go...od. Whe...ar...ou?"_

_-Dungeons. Do you know where we are?-_

_"If...I...id...ouldn't...sked."_

Ah. If he did know, he wouldn't have asked. Well, that was Bakura for you.

When Ryou noticed Malik's confused staring, he amended his mistake by relying what he'd heard to the Egyptian. Malik's eyes lit up brightly at the prospect. "You can still contact him?" Malik asked.

Ryou nodded, unsmiling.

_"...t...urts...Ry...ou. He...ll...id...ou...do...?"_

Ryou knew that Bakura was feeling the pain that Ryou had accidentally inflicted upon himself. He blushed a deeper scarlet of embarrassment, horrified that he'd managed to contact his yami through his own clumsiness.

_"n't...ep...ink...ay...afe...ndlord."_

_-I'll try, yami.-_

The link was snuffed out, and Ryou's eyes dulled slightly. It'd been so relieving to hear from his yami again. It made it hurt all that much worse at the notion that the link was so very temporary and brittle at the time. He needed to find a way to the Ring. He needed his darkness, the yin needed its yang.

Malik placed a comforting hand on Ryou's shaking shoulders, "We'll figure a way out of this whole mess, okay?" He assured his friend, eyes shining with sympathy.

"Okay." Ryou agreed, not really putting any feeling behind the response. He examined the thin red lines that now covered his shins and palms. They were ugly little scrapes, and made Ryou feel even stupider for the manner in which they were acquired. He didn't need to be hurting himself if they were planning a break away...without any help from their criminal expert.

"This is going to be tediously troublesome, isn't it?" Malik asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Ryou nodded solemnly, not bothering to acknowledge the little quip by his friend, "Yes. It will."

"We're going to figure out where our Items are, first of all?"

"Yes," Ryou replied, his eyes cool as flint, "We are going to find our Items and save my yami before we do anything else."

"Sounds like a plan."

End of Chapter

Yeah...nothing particularly exciting happened there. I know. I'm trying to bide my time, okay? Tell me if you enjoyed it, I love feedback. I would like to be informed if anyone is out of character, PLEASE! I hate OOCness!

OoCA-chan out!


	3. Paradox

Okay, I promise you, the chapters ARE GETTING LONGER! I'm really sorry if the first two were kind of short. I feel really bad for that, but they are kind of introductory chapters, and I didn't know how to add any more to what I'd already put. Dialogue is useless if it doesn't have a place.

With that said, since I was in such a rush to get this out (finally) I couldn't make this one long either. Chapter four will be longer, but I'm very hard-pressed to get it out quickly enough. (sweat drop)

Thank you to those who reviewed! I was surprised at the turnout, actually. X3

Languages:

"Predominant language of the chapter." (This will be Japanese during this chapter)

_"Lesser language of the chapter." _(This will be English during this chapter)

Disclaimer: Do I need to reiterate that I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh in another fashion?

Chapter Three

Paradox

Malik's eyes wandered up to the door, and he peered out the barred hole serving as the only window. The dim lights lining the damp hallway explained the greenish hue of their room, at least. He made a harrumphing sound in his throat. It wasn't pleasing to be in the figurative dark. He hated not knowing things. It was dangerous to be uninformed, and Malik was very, very uninformed.

"What can you see?" Ryou asked meekly, in the same spot he'd been in for a few hours. He looked a little fidgety, having to sit there and keep his ankle between two rocks acting as a makeshift tourniquet. The white-haired boy was looking paler than usual, but that could have been due to lack of sleep and lack of nutrition. Neither had any idea how long they'd been down there.

Malik's stomach rumbled as a reminder to their suffering of malnutrition and general situation, and he grumbled an Arabic curse at whomever was holding them hostage.

"What can you see, Malik?" Ryou repeated, and Malik's eyes snapped back to his friend.

"Oh, sorry Ryou." Malik mumbled in apology, feeling a little embarrassed that he'd so blatantly ignored his friend's question. "I see a hallway. It's the same hallway I saw an hour ago. Period."

Ryou bit his cracked lip, and a thin line of red appeared. The white-haired boy winced slightly and licked his lips.

"That doesn't help, you know."

"I know." Ryou knew what Malik had been referring to. There hadn't been much to speak about in captivity besides the things they were doing.

Malik's eyes scrunched up slightly, and he tried to peer further down the hallway, "Hey, Ryou, do you think that we've been here awhile?"

"I couldn't say."

"What if we tried to get out of here with Shadow Magic?"

Ryou shook his head, looking like a school teacher scolding a student that kept asking about the same question on the homework sheet, "Malik, you know that we already tried that...multiple times. It only served to further our injuries."

"That's mostly because our Shadows are drunk."

"Pardon me?" Ryou queried, pursing his lips, "This is hardly the time for joking, Malik."

Malik snickered at Ryou's assumption that Malik was kidding around, "I was being totally serious. The Shadows are _drunk _because this other magic is so concentrated...it would be like being a bubble of water in wet cement. You wouldn't be able to move freely, but you'd survive. The Shadows can't make heads or tails of anything because of this place...because of that Voldemort guy. He's got to be close."

"What does he have to do with anything?" Ryou pressed, suddenly interested in Malik's theory.

"Well, for starters," Malik explained, suddenly on a roll, "I'd wager that the guy is practically _made up_ of magic, considering how hard it is for our magic to function around him. We'd have to find a way to channel our magic some other way to use it, because of the high resolution of this modern magic that is hindering us."

"I'm surprised you're using such an expansive vocabulary, Malik." Ryou quipped weakly.

"I thought you said this 'wasn't the time for joking'."

"Oh hush."

"Anyways, I'd also wager - meaning that I'm getting a shit load of money here-" Ryou winced at the profanity. "That the concentration of this other Magic is why Bakura can't put a key on your soul and get the Ring back to you. He's probably drunk too."

"It's not like he's never been drunk before."

"Yeah," Malik agreed, shrugging his shoulders, "But this kind of drunk comes with more problems than just one hell of a hangover."

Ryou sighed, rubbing his arms uncomfortably.

Malik continued, unfazed by Ryou's not wanting to discuss Bakura, "You know, I think my sister mentioned something like this happening to Bearers when they encounter certain other incompatible magics, but I don't really recall what she said about countering the problem. Now I wish I paid more attention to her."

"Yes," Ryou said, nodding. "It would certainly help if we knew how to counter it, because it's fairly obvious that these other magic-users are functioning perfectly well. Our magic isn't hindering them in the slightest."

"Nope."

"We're going to try to escape now, aren't we?"

"Yep."

"I'm picking the lock?"

"Yep."

Ryou sighed, hoisting himself upwards, careful to apply too much pressure to his injured ankle, "I suppose it was inevitable..." He mused, the slightest hint of annoyance ghosting across his features.

"Huh?"

"I meant; it was inevitable that some of the stupid thieving things that Bakura taught me against my will would eventually come in handy. I suppose he can say 'I told you so' now." Ryou shook his head, smiling softly at something, but his eyes were dead at the prospect of his yami.

"Man, you're really hurting being disconnected from him, aren't you?" Malik ventured, moving to help Ryou stand properly.

Ryou nodded wearily, "It's like going through withdrawal."

"From what, drugs?" Malik smirked at his friend, "I always knew you were a closet drugee. Now I have the proof I needed to post it all over YouTube."

"It was just a comparison."

"Su-ure it was." Malik droned, drawing out the 'u' for the sake of being annoying. When Malik was bored, this was usually what he resorted to: bugging Ryou. It certainly wasn't a pick-me-up that Ryou enjoyed, and he often commented on Malik's short attention span. Ryou was often ignored.

Ryou crossed the room with Malik's aid and stopped to examine the padlock on the door. Hadn't Bakura told him that these were extremely simple to pick? Ryou bent down, snatching a perfectly long, thin shard of rock off of the ground. He pushed it into the large hole, twisting it around as gears inside the padlock clicked and moved, indicating that he was getting somewhere.

After a few sweaty moments, the padlock clamored to the floor and rolled to the side slightly.

"Volde-bastard: one, Ryou: one. Tie game, bitch." Malik commented, smirking viciously. It was a very animalistic smile often seen on the Egyptian's face when he got his way like this.

Ryou smiled at his friend over his shoulder, but shivered as he felt the alien wave of magic sweep over his body, choking his own magic. He could practically feel the last dregs of Shadow Magic in his body recoil in agony, pulling back into the darkest parts of his soul to survive.

Malik looked staggered also, so Ryou knew that he wasn't the only one.

The white-haired boy took two capable hands to the door, swinging it open gently enough so that the large piece of wood moved silently on its hinges. Both boys seemed to let out a sigh of relief when they noted that the entire dungeon appeared deserted.

"Okay, it's ninja time." Malik whispered, but Ryou shushed him anyways. They didn't need to be caught over something as trivial as Malik's 'ninja time'.

Since both of them were very experienced in the art of sneaking around; Malik and Ryou did exactly that: they snuck around. The dungeon was long, cold, and damp. Ryou mentioned to Malik that if it was damp like this, they were most likely underground. Malik had told the almost-albino to stop being a smarty-pants.

They passed very few prisoners in the first corridor, and if they did, they were either dead or completely unconscious. Most times Malik didn't even know which, they all looked so zombie-like. Ryou had wanted to help them, but Malik said that they couldn't do that in their present magic-less state. Saving these guys would just make more problems than it would solve.

Somewhere along the way they found themselves at a fork in the road, and both ways seemed identical in their stony, dark paths. Splitting up was suicide, so Malik and Ryou took to the left. It seemed to be the darker side anyways, and Shadow Masters thrived in darkness and shadow. Duh.

As the progressed, they found themselves met with an increasingly foul stench. It smelled like nothing either of them had ever smelled before, and both of them weren't particularly eager to find the source.

"Malik," Ryou squeaked, tugging on the Egyptian's shirt as they passed a long row of bars. Malik had clamped his eyes down on the hallway ahead of them to check for intruders while Ryou mapped out the area around them. Apparently Ryou had found something.

Malik blinked in the darkness and turned his head, his eyes following to where Ryou's shaky fingers were pointing. Inside the giant cell was a rotting pile of bodies. Yes, bodies. The faces were all sallow with wide, empty eyes and mouths hanging open in silent screams. The expressions were almost ghoulish, but then again, what more could a guy expect from a pile of dead flesh and sinew?

The Egyptian wrinkled his nose, "Well, at least now we know where the smell's coming from." He quipped, but Ryou did not see the humor.

Instead, Ryou tugged on Malik's shirt again, nearly choking the man to death, "Don't you see? This Voldemort...he's not just after us, he's a murderer. All of those innocent people...oh God..." Ryou let out a whimper, tears glistening in his chocolate brown eyes.

"Ryou," Malik soothed, helping the boy onto the ground when his knees buckled. Malik knew that Ryou was neglect to his sadistic side. Bakura took care of this kind of stuff whereas Ryou couldn't stomach the thought of squishing a bug on the sidewalk. "Ryou, we knew that this guy was a total dick-wad. What else were you expecting?"

"A few less dead bodies..." Ryou moaned, and his eyes sharpened slightly for a second, "He's just leaving them there...desecrating them..."

Malik frowned, "Sociopaths and psychos don't exactly hold the same respect for the dead than the slightly saner masses do." He pointed out, and Ryou hiccuped. Obviously he was trying to hold back the tears.

Malik pulled Ryou up onto his feet, whisking him past the cell containing the pile of bodies. Had he not known any better, he would have sworn that their empty eyes were following them as Ryou and Malik hurried off to escape the sight.

_Avenge us..._

Once they'd escaped the cell, Ryou pulled himself up onto his feet. His face was still pale, and his eyes were still veiled.

"Your ankle okay?" Malik asked, not planning to even go about asking if he was okay about seeing all those dead guys. Malik didn't want to complicate things further.

Ryou nodded weakly, "Yes, it's fine."

"Can you sense Bakura at all?" Malik ventured, "Is the link strengthening at all?"

Ryou shook his head, "I can't sense him at all."

"Maybe he's somewhere down the other hallway." Malik stated, rubbing his chin. If they'd gone down the other hallway, they might have found Bakura and possibly avoided the sight of all of those rotting corpses. Then again, they could have found trouble, and Malik was pretty damn sure that Voldemort didn't spare the guys who crossed him.

"Maybe..." Ryou murmured, looking up at Malik with a pleading gaze, "But we shouldn't go that way...those men are probably guarding my yami...and we aren't strong enough to face them right now."

The words unspoken were that Ryou didn't want to test his will power by going by that cell again. Malik knew that Ryou had a strong will for someone so timid, but he also knew that even Ryou had a breaking point, and he was definitely standing right on it.

It was better not to chance it.

Malik patted Ryou's shoulder sympathetically, "You're right."

Ryou sagged in visible relief.

Malik wasn't as fazed by all the bodies. He'd seen enough death in his lifetime to just accept it as part of the world. You can't change what's done, and you can't revive the dead, so there's no point dwelling on it. That was how Malik had always seen it, and that was how he always would.

"Let's go."

* * *

Malik and Ryou huddled in front of a barred hole in the wall, obviously saved for some sort of guard's communication use, and watched as the assortment of strange cloaked men and women sat in high-backed chairs and spoke of their affairs. Malik had to wonder if they'd walked in on some business conference.

When Volde-bastard swept into the room, earning bows from all present besides himself, Malik knew better.

The snake man moved on silent footsteps towards a very large chair at the head of the table. Behind him were a large winding snake and a small rat-like man with a silver arm. The rat-man looked absolutely terrified to be there, and was shaking so violently that Malik could spot it from their little hole across the room.

"We are gathered now to speak on the matters of these two magic-wielders that I have captured." Voldemort announced in greeting. No one protested to the _I, _when the cloaked freaks had done most of the work. Voldemort had pretty much just shown up and looked intimidating.

Malik was loathe to admit it, but it had definitely worked.

"What are we doing with these...children, Master? Are they privy to our cause?" A slimy looking blonde guy asked. Malik had a feeling that he'd heard that voice during their runaway from the cloaked freaks. This blonde guy must've been one of them.

"No, Lucius." Voldemort addressed the slime-nugget, "In fact, they are very adamant against aiding us. You know that. However, they are imperative to the downfall of the Order, and they will help us."

"But Master," A black haired, wild looking woman spoke up, "Their magic cannot function around ours, and almost all of England is saturated in our magic."

"No, they can function with our magic," Voldemort corrected, "They just need time to get used to the flow of ours before they can use theirs." Malik smirked, problem solved. So it was just exposure that they needed, huh?

Ryou gasped as he too made the connection. Both shadow-users exchanged glances. This was seriously good news in an overall crappy day.

"What will we do with them until then?" A fat man with beady eyes and about seven chins asked.

Voldemort's blazing ruby eyes snapped to the fat man's face, "Well, Kennedy, what would _you_ do with two children that cannot use magic unless they are exposed to it?" He asked, and the offender looked very uncomfortable to be put on the spot by his 'Master Voldemort'.

Kennedy gulped, "I-I'm not sure, Master. You are the one who knows all, I am but your humble servant." He groveled, and Malik wanted to spit in his face. Had this guy no dignity at all?

The snake slithered up to rest its massive head on Voldemort's lap, and the snake-man began to stroke it as if he were stroking a kitten or a puppy.

Voldemort's evasive expression changed to a sly smile. His white lips curled up to show his abnormally white teeth as he grinned maniacally, "We send them to school."

End of Chapter

Forgive me! Forgive me! Forgive me! I know that I warned you that this one would be short, but I still feel bad! I'm trying to set everything up for the real adventure, but it's hard to make lengthly chapters all about things that contain very little depth. I don't want to bore you.

Tell me if you enjoyed it.

Review!


	4. A Deal with the Devil

I would like to take this moment to thank the awesome peeps who reviewed my ficcy last chapter and the prior chapters. All of you (including those who decided not to leave a review) are great. I appreciate the support so much, and it's great to hear that the fic is unique. That's exactly what I was aiming for. :)

_"Bakura to Ryou."_

_- Ryou to Bakura. - _

_"Malik to Bakura (telepathically through the Millennium Rod."_

Disclaimer: I want Bakura and Malik as my sex slaves...that doesn't mean that I own them.

Chapter Four

A Deal with the Devil

Voldemort surveyed the Death Eaters around him, all of them blinking in confusion or smiling wickedly. Ryou and Bakura could see the wild-haired woman with crazed eyes grinning viciously, so viciously that it was almost feral...animalistic.

Then the snake-man's head tilted to stare at Ryou and Malik directly, and his lips curled up into a feral smile of his own, "It's nice to see," He began, "That our new guests are living up to their...special standards." He raised his wand up to the wall they were hidden behind, _"Reducto." _

The wall was blown to pieces, and Ryou and Malik were forced to leap to the side to avoid the debris that went flying around them. Both were lucky not to get a concussion or even get killed by the blast.

"What the _fuck_ was that, you psycho?" Malik shouted, coughing as the rubble brought up a cloud of dust. His face was masked with a thin layer of dirt from his lunge into the ground. His elbows were completely skinned from the contact, and he was nursing them with occasional winces.

Ryou had been much more fortunate, having gotten safely out of the way of the shrapnel before he could get hit. He also managed to leap to the ground unscathed. However, his hair was no longer white, but slightly brown with the dirt that was covering Malik also. He opted not to mouth off to the sorcerer that had just blown a wall into pieces as if it were made of paper instead of stone.

Voldemort sneered at them as they sat there, "Stand up and come before me, Bearers. My servants are yet to see your capabilities."

"I don't think you're stupid," Malik growled heatedly, "I'll give you that, so you already know that we can't use_ our _magic because _yours _is so damn convoluted." He crossed his arms gingerly, and Ryou noticed a small spot of blood dotting his dirty violet top. That didn't speak many good things for his broken ribs. Had they pierced something? Ryou did a once-over of Malik's wrist, and noticed that he was inconspicuously cradling it in the safe nook of his elbow. That spoke volumes for the pain he must've been feeling from his prior injuries.

After assessing Malik, Ryou was suddenly very aware of his throbbing ankle. He'd likely sprained it all over again, or given it a worse sprain. It wasn't broken though, thankfully. He could actually move.

"Please," Voldemort commanded in his slick voice, "Come before my servants and I."

"'Please' my ass." Malik hissed under his breath, but from an exchanged glance between Ryou and him, complied. They moved so that they were practically shoulder-to-shoulder and approached the long table of men and women dressed in black. They met many pairs of harsh gazes, some skeptical, some morbidly curious, and others wicked. Malik really wasn't liking the look on that freaky black-haired lady's face.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort said slowly, sparing the crazy-lady a look that one would reserve for a sick lover, "Please, you're scaring these...children."

"My Lord." She murmured, complying to his wishes by bowing her head slightly. Her face was devoid of emotion, but her eyes were still fierce and hungry as she glared up at them from a veil of her hair. Malik still thought she was slimy. Everything about her spoke dark, and everything about her spoke _mean. _As juvenile as calling her 'mean' was, it was one of the best ways to describe the woman: she looked mean.

"I assume," Voldemort continued, unhindered by Bellatrix's prior misdemeanor, "That you two boys heard me speaking of your needing to be exposed to our magic to function around it?"

"Yeah, we heard." Malik spat.

Ryou nudged Malik slightly, and Malik glanced at Ryou with a cold expression. Why would Ryou care about being a jerk to this guy? Did he think this would help them at all?

Voldemort nodded with that cold smile on his face again, "Convenient, then, that one of my own has just come into power at a very prestigious school. In fact, this particular school is absolutely full of our magic. It is the best place for you to become exposed to our branch of sorcery."

"We're going to school?" Ryou squeaked out. He slapped a hand to his mouth, shocked that he'd spoken out. Voldemort seemed to find this amusing.

"Yes, you will be enrolled as supervisors of the students. You will enforce punishments to those loyal to the Order and the mudbloods, and you shall report to me on a regular basis. My spy cannot both function as Headmaster _and_ report to me regularly of course. Neither, unfortunately, can the Carrow siblings. They are teachers, and are very involved with diverting the students' course back in the direction it should be running. Due to the Order's disease-like power in the previous years, we have much to do to mend these children's' modified minds."

"So basically, you want to brainwash them _your_ way." Malik smarted. Voldemort pursed his lips, displeased with Malik's wording of the snake's plot. Voldemort's hand curled around the giant snake to pet it again.

"This is Nagini." Voldemort introduced, stroking the beast again, "She is a venomous snake, one of the most venomous magical lizards next to the ancient Basilisk which has, unfortunately, been driven to extinction. It's a pity that you are trying to incur her wrath. I do not deny her of her pleasures when a silly little boy is mouthing off to me. She is fiercely loyal you see."

"Are you threatening m-?" Malik was cut off by a sharp jab to his uninjured arm from Ryou, who sent Malik a warning glance. Enraging Voldemort wouldn't get them anywhere either.

"Ah," Bellatrix murmured with a haughty smirk, "The albino is the only intelligent one of the two."

"Indeed." Voldemort agreed, and Bellatrix looked positively euphoric that Voldemort approved of her observation.

"Before we move on," Malik said quietly, "We need our Millennium Items back. Our magic without our Items is as useless as yours without a wand." He sure hoped that he was right about that, because he was taking a daring bluff with their magic. The Items were an amplifier, and typically the power source, but Malik and Ryou could perform many Shadow Magic practices without their Items.

Voldemort glanced at the rat-man cowering in the corner, "Wormtail, fetch the two Bearers their Items. They strike a very valid point. I cannot deny them their magic when it's so prudent that they use it in the battles to come."

The rat-man - Wormtail - skittered off out the door and up a flight of polished wooden stairs.

The man named Lucius stood up from his seat, his eyes fixed on Ryou and Malik as a pair, and his lips curled up in a disgusted sneer, "I do not wish for these two to be left without surveillance any longer. I would suggest, My Lord, that we give them proper beds up with my son, Draco, where he can attend to keeping them in line. His skill in magic has increased drastically, and he should be more than enough to handle these boys when they are practically...muggles." Lucius pretty much spat the word 'muggles'.

Voldemort considered Lucius's proposal for a moment before licking his lips, "That is an option, certainly, Lucius. I am glad that you have volunteered your son to accompany our new guests."

"Thank you, My Lord." Lucius murmured. It seemed that all of them were getting very excited at Voldemort's praising of them.

"Besides our guests," Voldemort continued, "We have a...Chosen one to attend to, do we not? I believe that he is traveling by broomstick tomorrow evening."

'Chosen One?' Malik mouthed to Ryou in question. Ryou shook his head. He didn't know what Voldemort was talking about either. He'd certainly never heard of a Chosen One. A Chosen Pharaoh, perhaps, but they all knew that was Yami.

Ryou was hit with a sudden surge of panic. Were they after Yugi? The two Bearers exchanged worried glances. They sure hoped not.

"Mr. Potter and his escorts won't know what hit them." A small man that looked well-kept, but snotty, mused.

Both Malik and Ryou sagged in visible relief.

"I have the Items, My Lord!" Wormtail cried out as he stumbled into the room. He held up the Items to Voldemort, head bowed. Both Malik and Ryou zeroed in on the glinting golden artifacts, and Ryou immediately felt the pull of his yami.

_"Ryou!"_

Ryou practically melted, a smile appearing on his face. Malik had to grab him when his knees buckled in his misty euphoria. It was like the pain of withdrawal from his yami had never been there, replaced with a familiar warmth that accompanied the touch of his darkness's consciousness.

_- yami. -_

_"Are you okay? Did those bastards hurt you? I swear to Ra, if they even _looked_ at you the wrong way I'll hamstring em' all."_

_- I'm fine, yami. - _Ryou breathed. It was a relief, he decided, to have his protective darkness back over having no darkness present at all. He felt whole again for the first time in a long time.

_"Who the _fuck_," _Bakura snarled angrily, _"Is holding onto my Ring?"_

Once Malik had Ryou good and straightened up again, Wormtail cautiously approached them and all but threw the Items at them. So much for respect, considering they were the 'guests' and all. Malik caught the Rod and quickly deposited it into his pocket. He kept his fingers tightly locked around it, however. He would not lose it again.

Ryou took to his Ring with a lover's caress. It was like holding part of himself, as if he were holding part of his soul. He was, but the line had to be used for proverbial benefit. There's not much one can use to describe the connection Ryou felt in that instant that his hands touched the cool gold again, or the sudden rush of sensations that he felt as Bakura and his minds linked to their fullest capacity once more.

He was whole.

The Ring, once around his neck, disappeared into his shirt by magical means.

_"Quit with the mushy shit landlord," _Bakura grumbled in annoyed embarrassment at Ryou's sentimentality, _"I'm back, get over it."_

Ryou nodded weakly.

_"I'm also taking control for the time being. Got that?"_

_- Thank you. -_

_"Yeah, yeah, whatever."_

There was a faint, indiscernible glow from Ryou's shirt as they switched places. Ryou's hair instantaneously became wilder. His eyes sharpened and hardened, a brown that was cold as flint instead of warm like cocoa. His thankful smile morphed into a feral smirk. Every person aside from Voldemort seemed slightly taken aback at the change.

Malik grinned, "Hey Bakura, miss me?"

Bakura shot Malik a deadpan look, "Like a child misses chastisement."

"I'll let that slide and consider it a compliment...mostly because I have no idea what you just said."

"That makes the difference in intelligence even more obvious." Bakura said snidely, snorting and rolling his eyes.

Bellatrix jumped up from her seat, the chair tipping to the ground with a clatter, "Such fools! How dare you act with such casual childish behavior in front of My Lord! You'll suffer for this!" She screeched, whipping out her wand and pointing it at them threateningly.

"I suggest you put that away woman," Bakura snarled, his lips pulled back over his pointed canines, "Or you'll find the hand no longer attached."

"You dare!" She was about to utter a spell when Voldemort silenced her with a wave of his own hand.

"This is not the same boy that you faced moments before. This is an ancient spirit that does not know how to behave quite like modern-day humans do. Just be thankful that he cannot perform his magic, for I would not stop him from killing you, Miss Lestrange. He may be my new puppet, but he will always be superior to you in age and experience. Take that to mind when you make empty threats. I will punish them should I choose upon _my_ decision that they have made a discrepancy, not you." Voldemort sneered, "But your loyalty is commendable as always."

Bellatrix's eyes widened in horror. Her mouth quivered, as if she were about to cry, and she re-seated herself, abashed. Still, she seemed slightly pleased that he noted her loyalty to him.

"I am a puppet to no one." Bakura hissed darkly, and the room seemed to shudder as the Shadow Magic pulsed, but was unable to come to its Master's call.

Voldemort smiled, "I will allow that to pass, Mister Bakura, for you are newly reunited with your vessel and are likely...cranky from your time away."

"Cranky's an understatement..." Malik muttered under his breath which earned himself a jab in the ribs from Bakura. Malik grunted in pain, shooting Bakura a glare.

_"My ribs are broken you fool!"_ He communicated telepathically, also sending a small token of pain to the spirit. Bakura sent him a quick glance, which was about as good an apology as he was going to get from Bakura. Malik's hand went unconsciously to his throbbing rib cage, in which the dull but constant ache had blossomed into a sharp pain thanks to the Spirit of the Ring.

Voldemort seated himself at the high-backed chair at the head of the table. Even when he indicated for the two to sit down, neither took the offer and moved from their spots. The snake-man smiled, "You don't trust me at all as of yet, do you?"

"I don't trust snakes." Bakura growled. Malik didn't say anything, but his even stare spoke volumes. He trusted Voldemort as far as he could throw him, which considering the snake-man's size, was almost zero.

Voldemort folded his long, white hands, "Regardless, I have a proposal for the both of you. If you agree to serve me as I stated you would previously, I will give you all the power that you could desire. That _is_ what the both of you desire, is it not? Power? I will be King of this great magical empire in mere months, and the both of you can be in very influential seats of power under me, should you accept. All I ask is that you infiltrate Hogwarts as student supervisors and report to me regularly. I don't ask much of you, as you can see."

"What's the catch?" Malik challenged, his eyes narrowed into violet slits.

"There is no catch other than my asking of your loyalty. It will ensure your safety, of course. If you decline, I cannot guarantee your survival." Voldemort answered in a very calm, business-like tone.

Bakura barked out a laugh, "You're a regular con-man, aren't you?" The humor in his face dissipated, being replaced by an equally as business-like expression, "But I like your offer of power. I don't like serving under anyone, but you can be very fair, I see. I'll accept your offer for the time being...this empire you foresee...it intrigues me. I would like to be apart of your revolution."

_- Yami, what are you doing? - _Ryou cried out in horror.

_"What the fuck Bakura? Are you out of your freaking mind?"_

_"Go the hell along with it," _Bakura snarled to the both of them. The links evaporated. They knew what he was doing.

Malik still looked a little staggered by Bakura, but stared at Voldemort with a pensive glance, "Since my comrade is so sure of your leadership, I guess I have to go along for the ride. Whatever. I'll remain loyal to you as long as Bakura intends to."

Voldemort's lips drew back in another menacing smile, "Very good. Don't you see how simple that was?" He turned to his minions, "You see that the Spirit is very different from the boy Ryou Bakura, for the Spirit seems to think quite alike to me. I will be very pleased should this alliance turn out."

"Likewise." Bakura said smoothly, a vicious smile upon his face that matched Voldemort's cruel smile.

"Will they serve under you, My Lord?" Bellatrix asked, skeptical of their loyalty," I do not want such sorcerers trying to overthrow your power."

"I have seen their minds, Bellatrix," Voldemort assured her, "They are loyal."

_"That's only because he sees what we want him to see. We are masters of the mind, and this bastard doesn't have a clue." _Bakura gloated.

_"We may be in deep shit, but at least we have this psycho's favor now."_ Malik agreed gravely.

Voldemort extended his hand towards Bakura, who examined the hand for a moment before walking briskly forwards with an air of purpose. Malik did not need to do so, for Voldemort has ascertained that Bakura was the leader. How wrong he was...

...and then Bakura sealed their fates with a hand shake.

End of Chapter

Didja like it? Hm? I got this one out fairly quickly, which I'm proud of. I figured that I ought to do a good job, since you guys had to wait so long for the last chapter. Thanks for sticking with me, readers!

Review!


	5. Pause and Rewind

Okay. I realized that the last chapter was a little too dark for my tastes. Therefore, I decided to put in this chapter. It's not filler or anything, it's part of the plot, but it's a little sidetrack from the climax that I feel is necessary. Oh, wait, damn it...that _is _filler. Ah well, I'm a Naruto fan. Filler rubs off on you after a while. But this is tied into the plot, I swear it!

Disclaimer: Yeah...if I kidnap Bakura and hold him for ransom, do you think Kazuki Takahashi would sell me their ownership? You don't? Then no, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

Chapter Five

Pause and Rewind

"I swear to Ra that I'm going to _kill _Voldemort for sending us on this mission. I am going to _kill_ him. It will be painful. He will die."

"Malik...?"

"Yeah?"

Bakura brought his fist around, knocking Malik sharply in the head, "Shut up."

The day had been pressing on both of their nerves. After yesterday, in which Bakura had done some serious sweet-talking to get Voldemort to think that they would follow him for the time being, they'd been immediately given the roles of 'spies'. Well, not really spies for their first mission, but as soon as they got sent to Hoggy-warts or wherever it was, they would be. For this particular mission, however, they had been instructed in seeking out some elderly witch who'd been going against Voldemort's new 'laws'. If you could call them laws.

Voldemort had let them go to sleep the night before, and had had them woken up bright and early by rat-man-with-a-metal-claw. They had then been escorted to a breakfast buffet, which would have won Malik over had it not been for the whole murdering innocents thing that Voldemort had going on.

Their meal had been unfortunately interrupted by the great jerk himself, and he'd sat down at the head of the table and presented them with his 'request', which was in fact a demand. Voldemort just called in a request because he knew that no one was going to disobey him. For the sake of remaining inconspicuous, Bakura and Malik obliged.

So they'd been carted off to a field just outside of the Malfoy Manor, which was where they'd been kept captive. Malik had been rather shocked at the realization that from the outside no one would suspect that a Victorian style mansion would have dungeons and piles of dead bodies instead of a basement. Yeah, it was gross.

Anyways, they were in this field, which was actually the Malfoy family backyard, but it was so magnificently large that Malik decided that it ought to be considered as a land formation of its own. Therefore, it was referred to as a 'field' instead of a 'yard'. They had been handed broomsticks by two of the cloaked guys. Apparently all foreign magic styles were supposed to understand this modern means of transportation in this modern magic. Bakura had bluntly pointed out that he was a five-thousand year old spirit who had experienced little contact with other brands of magic from this era, and Malik had pointed out that he'd spent the majority of his life either underground or hunting the Pharaoh.

Their disobedient behavior had been pardoned, since they really did have a good point. Malik had then convinced Lucius Malfoy, who was their superior in Voldemort's stead for the duration of the mission, to allow the two Bearers to ride the muggle bus to the location. Very grudgingly, Malfoy had finally agreed.

"Tell me something," Malik drawled, rubbing his index finger against his thumb in a lazy, distracted gesture. Bakura glanced up at Malik, his blood red eyes tinted with annoyance and curiosity. It was a weird mix, but the so very Bakura-like motion gave Malik the incentive to continue, "Why did you agree to becoming the snake-bastard's servant? I thought you, of all people, had serious issues with authority."

Bakura shrugged one shoulder, tugging absently at the fabric of the white dress-shirt the Malfoy family had provided him with. He'd also been given a pair of black slacks and plain black shoes. Malik wore an identical outfit, but had opted to purchase a casual gray jacket before they'd gotten onto the bus. He'd said something about 'formal' and 'evil' before trotting off to buy it, but Bakura hadn't really been listening, since he hadn't particularly cared.

Malik had been very grateful that Voldemort had allowed the return of their worldly possessions. He'd been more grateful that he hadn't been looted of his cash.

"Well...?" Malik pressed, impatience colouring his tone.

"Think about it, Malik." Bakura snapped quietly, remembering to maintain the element of staying inconspicuous, "What options were we given? He trapped us by taking me away from Ryou for a _reason_. It was a deliberate attempt to give you both incentive to follow his will. He also knew that if _I _didn't agree to the terms he laid out, I would be taken away from Ryou. Now that I have found my light, do you really think that I could be ripped from him for a lengthily amount of time and come out with even an iota of sanity?"

Bakura was very careful not to mention Voldemort's name. One could never know who was listening.

Malik snorted, "Like you ever had an 'iota of sanity'."

Bakura laid his head back against the seat, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face, "Details." He murmured to Malik cheekily, who rolled his eyes and grinned, shaking his head. Bakura could be a jerk, but Malik had to hand it to him: the spirit really did have a fairly decent sense of humor.

The Ring Spirit's eyebrow creased and his head snapped up again, "I want to explain this to you in terms you can understand, for I know as well as you do that you weren't particularly upset about being separated from _your_ other half." Malik glowered at Bakura in protest, but the white-haired male continued: "Have you ever seen me when someone...hurts my landlord?"

Malik had to suppress a shudder at that one. "Like I could forget. I was watching TV with you the day that the missing persons' report came on, you know. The murderous glaring at the screen didn't prove for hiding your crime much."

Bakura smirked, "They won't find him, you know." He stated, "I sent him and his body to the Shadow Realm. Trust me, he's probably long gone." He eased back into the seat again, looking disturbingly peaceful. Well, then again, it was an off day when Bakura felt bad about one of his heinous crimes.

Malik lifted up the road map from the spot beside him and held it a few feet from his face, letting it fall open. His eyes scanned the lines and locations for a few seconds before he pointed at a designated spot just on the outskirts of the city, "This is our stop, right?" He queried, glancing over at Bakura, whose eyes were closed. He appeared to be sleeping, but his breathing was too even, a mockery.

One ruby eye opened to graze over the map before Bakura gave Malik a curt nod, "Congratulations, you've figured out how to read a modern-day map."

"Oh, be quiet."

"Wow," Bakura marveled, "You actually managed to tell me to shut up in a semi-polite manner. Your annoying elder sister is rubbing off on you."

Malik curled his lip, a mocking smirk on his face. He also leaned back into the seat, folding up the map and replacing it beside him, "You wish, Tomb Robber."

"I do?"

"Yep."

"Liar."

"Yep."

"Are you going to insist on repeating that Ra-forsaken word?" Bakura asked snappishly, "Because if you do, I can promise you a quick trip to the grave."

"...Indeed."

Bakura hissed at Malik through clenched teeth, baring his elongated canines in an animalistic fashion of displaying anger. Malik threw the spirit a lazy grin, his lips pulling back over his pearly whites menacingly. Their gazes met evenly, Malik's amused, Bakura's hard and annoyed. Eventually Bakura broke the tension and let his head fall back again, his face pointed to the sky, his hair falling on the ledge and down his shoulders.

"You're oddly dark for one that's portrayed as a 'light'." Bakura mused, smirking slightly at the contradiction in his words.

Malik shrugged, "I've always kind of seen myself as a balance of light and darkness."

"Oh?"

"Well, not always." He admitted, closing his eyes. "But I've kind of figured out where I stand. I mean, I probably used to be mostly 'light' regardless of how dark my intentions had been. Still, Marik had been a manifestation of my negative emotions, or my 'darkness', so I took the role of a twisted kind of hikari, I guess. When Marik was destroyed, my inner self found harmony again. I guess you can say that my yin reconnected with my yang, and that's why I'm able to look at Yugi as a friend instead of a target for my hatred. You can also suppose that since I'm now 'light' without a presence of 'darkness', since Marik was sealed away, I'm pure. I prefer to think of myself as a balance though." Malik reopened his eyes, and they were peaceful.

Bakura blinked a couple of times as he noted this. He grinned anyways, "What a philosophical way of looking at yourself. Who knew you were capable of such...insight? I'm impressed."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get all mushy on me, Tomb Robber, or I'll have to beat you senseless to show you how insightful I can be into your insides." Malik snarled, a little irked that Bakura was making fun of one of Malik's deepest feelings, something that he'd mulled over for weeks on end. It'd been what brought him a little peace of mind, and Bakura was knocking it.

Bakura threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Now, now...you know this isn't _my_ body for keeps. It'd be terrible if you killed Ryou over something _I _said."

Now that kind of statement was eerily alike to how Bakura used to act. It was very akin to Bakura's earlier behavior towards Ryou: thinking of him as a means to Bakura's ends instead of an actual person. Malik curled his lip at the comment. He hated the way Bakura had been, and he didn't like Bakura acting as such now. Ryou was the first person next to his family who'd accepted him, and Malik was going to treasure that kind of friendship.

"Jeez, don't go all gay-for-Ryou on me." Bakura muttered, guessing Malik's thought-process before the Egyptian could voice it.

"I'm not _gay_, Bakura."

"Su-ure you aren't."

"I'm not."

"I didn't say that you were."

"Yeah, but you sure implied it, so you're guilty."

"Implications aren't the same as voicing it out loud, and I never denied making an implication." Bakura pointed out, smirking at Malik's fuming face, "I only claimed not to have outright said anything, which I didn't."

"So 'gay for Ryou' isn't outright saying it?" Malik asked with a derisive snort, "On what planet?"

"This one, obviously." Bakura stated matter-of-factly, earning a defeated groan from Malik. Bakura puffed up triumphantly. He loved to win.

"You and your god damn mind games..." Malik hissed in annoyance. He paused for a moment, blinking for a second, before glancing at Bakura again, "Hey, where _is_ Ryou, while we're kind of on the topic of him...?"

"Sleeping. When he gets really terrified, he tends to sleep for a long time, and it didn't help that he was up all night worrying that I was going to up and vanish again." The spirit sighed, "It took me hours to finally convince him that I wasn't going anywhere."

Malik was prepared to make a snippy comment about Bakura being gay for Ryou, but when he noticed the softer expression in Bakura's usually hard-as-flint eyes, he thought better of it. When Bakura was having these rare moments of showing some actual compassion for another living being, it was best not to poke fun at him. It tended to make him close up again, and Malik didn't mind letting Bakura show some real human emotions for a change.

The Tomb Keeper glanced out the window and nudged Bakura, "This is our stop." He declared, raising his hand up to grasp the little wire. He pulled down on it once, signaling the driver that someone wanted off. The bus slowed to a halt on the side of the road, and both males rose to exit. Malik pocketed the map, and Bakura pocketed a few possessions he acquired on his way off of the bus. He enjoyed the fact that these British humans didn't pay much attention to the whereabouts of their belongings on buses.

Easy prey.

Bakura's feet touched the concrete walkway leading down the suburbs of London, and he snorted at the annoyingly well-kept appearance of the place. "Really," He droned, crossing his arms, "Could they at least have the decency to _not _act like they're perfect little angels here?"

"Just because you're the furthest thing from it doesn't mean you've got to knock it." Malik cracked, grinning and pointing down one of the small side streets, "Directions say she lives down that-a-way. Let's go."

Bakura grumbled something incoherent, but followed Malik as the blonde Egyptian strutted, yes strutted, down the street. They really were a sight, the tan-skinned, violet eyed male and the white-haired male. Bakura noted, with much annoyance, that quite a few young people of the very _female _variety were whispering and giggling as the two passed them. Stupid young human hormones.

Once they were safely out of earshot of their admirers, Malik nudged Bakura subtly, "Hey, when d'you think the cloaks are going to show?" He asked, glancing around as if he expected them to randomly pop up at any given time.

Bakura snorted, "You mean the ones standing over there waiting for us?" He queried back, thumbing to his right where, indeed, the few Death Eaters they'd been acquainted with before the mission stood in civilian clothes. Malik was actually rather shocked how well they dressed, considering the implied inability to dress like normal people at any other time. Had he not memorized the faces, he probably wouldn't have noticed that they were wizards.

Their aura was, still, unfortunately impossible for him to detect. It was like he was a dog in the rain trying to track a scent: he was getting nowhere.

Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the small huddle of men, looking quite upper-scale. Not like his gigantic house gave that away. "You two are to infiltrate the home as young men on the run from our Lord. Try to get as much information as you can. We will surround the house. I will be watching, and upon your signal you will immobilize her so that we can dispose of her."

"I thought you were going to torture her for information." Malik snarled. He disliked the snooty tone in Malfoy's voice very much.

Lucius's vile face twisted into a smile, "Well, if she doesn't give you satisfactory information, then we may consider it. But we tend to prefer gaining trusting information than forcing it. We prefer to dispose of our targets quickly. If they live long enough to escape..." He trailed off, giving the two a meaningful stare. It said that if they tried to run away, they would forever be hunted.

Malik almost said 'bring it on', but didn't want to have to put his foot in his mouth over something this important. Besides, Bakura would probably literally put his foot in his mouth for him, along with a couple of sharp objects inserted kindly into his throat. Yeah, Malik wasn't going there.

"Let's hurry and do this, then." Bakura growled, low in his throat, "We don't want to leave the poor unsuspecting mortal alive for too long."

You had to love Bakura and his sarcasm.

Lucius nodded to them and then nodded his head to the side for his Death Eaters to follow him. They obliged in silence, obviously still wary of their new 'allies'. They were right to be wary. Once Malik and Bakura were able to use their magic again, they were going to 'dispose' of these jerks faster than they could say 'can-can.'

Bakura stalked forwards, and Malik had to pick up at a short jog to keep up with the furious spirit. At least, he thought Bakura was furious. When Malik finally caught up to him, however, Bakura was wearing a very smug, very vicious smirk on his face. Actually, it was a full blown evil _grin_.

"What's with the happy face?" Malik asked quietly, thankful that they were enough paces ahead of the cloaks to maintain whispered conversation unheard by slimy, unwanted ears.

Bakura glanced in Malik's direction, his red eyes shining with pleasure. He lifted his hand in front of him, and a crackle of Shadow energy rippled across his forearm, "This area contains very little of their magic. I can feel my Shadows again."

Malik suddenly felt warmth spread across his body, and gladly noted the faint glow of his Millennium Rod through the fabric of his pocket. Oh yes, this was definitely a plus.

They stopped near the bottom of the stairs and exchanged meaningful glances. Lucius was watching them with an expression saying 'you'd better look like you're on the run.' Well, Bakura did exactly that, he whirled around and cuffed Malik in the head, using the sharpened edge of who-knows-what to slice a clean gash across Malik's cheek. Malik bit his lip and glared at Bakura, but when Bakura's eyes narrowed he began to pant like he was tired. They both dashed up the doorway and fell against the door.

You had to give them both props for acting.

A latch was opened in the door, and a small piece of wood was removed. A pair of old eyes stared at them, and an elderly woman's voice floated out from behind the doorway, "Who is it? Are you _his_ followers?"

Malik shook his head vigorously, holding a hand to his cheek, "The Death Eaters," He murmured in terror, glancing behind himself quickly to check if anyone was there, "They've been...chasing us for...hours." He lifted his hand away from his cheek to 'check' the gash, and winced visibly and replaced his hand.

The woman didn't look totally sold. Smart old lady. "I'll need actual proof, you hooligans. He's been recruiting young lately. I have my wand!"

Bakura thought back to that word that he'd heard briefly that day as the Death Eaters spoke scathingly of some old lady named Mrs. Figg. What was a wizard's child without magic itself called again? Oh right... "We're both squibs, ma'am." He said in his best Ryou voice, "But my mum told me that a witch lived here, and to come here if she ever was...caught..." He appropriately choked on his words there. Inwardly, however, he was shuddering. How far he had fallen...

"Who am I, then? Your mum ought to have at least known my name."

Malik bit his lip, "M-Mum said that everyone called you," What was her damn name again? "Old l-lady Longbottom."

"Kids these days...haven't a spec of respect, they don't." She hissed, annoyed, but opened the door quickly and hurried them inside, "Quickly now, quickly. We don't want me getting caught too. I won't be anything of a help, I won't."

Bakura had to say, she was extraordinarily oddly dressed. She sported a horrific green, furry dress, and was wearing a...was that a bird on her head?

_-Oh my...that's quite the wardrobe. - _

_"Che, what the hell _is_ that thing on her head? Is it a bird or a rodent of sorts?"_

_-I think it's a stuffed bird...-_

_"Are you awake, landlord?"_

_- Yes, I am. I'm feeling better too. Can I take care of this? I'm a little more personable than you are. - _

_"Cheeky landlord..."_

Regardless of his grumbling, Bakura obliged. The weird old lady didn't see the Ring glow faintly as the dark switched places with his light. Malik noticed, and cocked an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"Now," The lady said, whipping her wand out and pointing it at Ryou's throat, "I may be an old woman, but I am not so senile to ignore the different flow of magic around the both of you. You're not squibs, or your flow of magic would be as nonexistent as a muggle's. Did Dumbledore send you?"

Ryou's eyes widened in shock, "W-Who...?"

Her eyes narrowed, and all worry for the two emptied from her expression, "Voldemort, then." She murmured darkly. "But you're not the smartest of his subordinates. Why did he send you?" She definitely had guts if she was willing to speak the jerk's name out loud. Malik had gathered that 'Voldemort' seemed to be something of a taboo word in this world.

Malik sighed and straightened, removing his hand from his cut, "Look, I'm not going to lie to you. He sent us to dispose of you, and there's a group of Death Eaters surrounding your home right now. We were forced into league with him, so, if you can think of any way to escape, now's the time."

"What?" Old Lady Longbottom looked a little shell shocked, "Are you joking?"

"Quite the contrary." Ryou murmured seriously, empathy in his expression, "But we know how to transport you to safety and make it look like we've killed you." Ryou's eyes suddenly shifted colour, and Bakura was back in control, "We were instructed to seek you out and squeeze you for information before capturing you so that the Malfoy-bastard could kill you with that killing spell of yours."

"Bakura, what are you-?" Malik began, but he was cut off by the old woman's gasp.

"You suffer from a possession." She said, stepping back slightly. Malik caught her wrist before she could make a scene.

Her head swiveled to him, "It's not what you think it is. The two actually get along quite well. You're a smart old lady, aren't you?"

She made a harrumph-ing noise, "Well, you can't be an idiot and have lived this long in _these_ times, I'll tell you that." She seemed quite proud of herself.

Bakura's eyes turned brown again, Ryou was now in control, "We use a different kind of magic, and we can have you transported to safety. Do you know anywhere that you can go for the time being?"

"Well," The woman started, tapping her chin lightly, her wand still in her hand, "My sister lives out in the country, so I suppose I can go out to see her."

"You're lying." Malik deadpanned, and the old lady smiled mischievously, "But you've got the right idea. Ryou, shall we?"

Ryou sifted in his pocket, retrieving a card and flipping it into the air, "Earl of Demise, come to me!" He declared, just as Malik's Eye materialized onto his forehead and the Shadows exploded around them. The blue poltergeist-like creature appeared also, kneeling dutifully before its Master.

Old Lady Longbottom took a precautionary step back, "Where have you taken me?" She demanded, glaring at Malik, who was the only one paying attention. Ryou was laying out guidelines for his Earl to follow; like no eating the lady, or dropping her off in the Shadow Realm somewhere. She was to get to her destination, and Ryou was going to know if she didn't make it, so the Earl really, really needed to obey. One suggestion that Bakura would be coming after the shadow monster had the Earl of Demise groaning its promises of loyalty.

"This is what our magic does," Malik explained briefly, grinning slightly as the Eye appeared too on Ryou's forehead and his eyes turned the colour of blood once again.

"We can always leave you for dead if you don't want to do this our way." Bakura suggested, rolling one eye in the elderly woman's direction. Old Lady Longbottom puffed out her chest indignantly.

"Are you suggesting that I'm scared, boy?" The woman asked, scarlet-faced, "I assure you that I-"

"Look," Bakura interrupted, "My Earl of Demise is going to escort you to your choice of location. He will not harm you, nor leave you for dead in this Realm without it being known by me. And I assure you, he will no longer exist should that happen."

The Earl of Demise shuddered and moaned again, some saliva dripping from his pruny blue lips. The Earl would not be disobeying its master any time soon.

Old Lady Longbottom took one last worried glance into the endless expanse of shadows before linking arms, slightly disgustedly, with the Earl and whispering her directions into its shriveled ear. The Earl nodded slightly, or what was perceived to be a nod, and floated off into the darkness with the old woman in tow.

Malik snorted a laugh back, and Bakura threw him a withering look, "What's so funny?" The spirit asked, genuinely curious.

"That's one serious," Malik snickered as he spoke, "Kung Fu Grandma."

Bakura rolled his eyes, the Eye of Horus fading on his forehead as the Shadows recoiled and dissipated into the air. They were standing, once again, in the empty living room. Footsteps thumped up the front steps. Apparently their aura had alerted the Death Eaters.

Lucius burst into the doorway, his goons hot on his heels, "Blast you children! What did you do with the woman?" His head swung back and forth, but he was still unable to locate the old lady.

"She was pissing me off," Bakura answered calmly through a very menacing, fanged grin, "So she's gone now."

The Death Eaters all seemed to visibly shudder, which gave Bakura immense pleasure. He was annoyed to note, however, that Lucius barely flinched. He just looked enraged. "Did you not acquire any information? What shall we bring to my Lord?"

"Look," Malik snapped, crossing his arms, "The direct order from Voldemort was to get rid of her for her rebelliousness. Gathering information was _your_ idea for some twisted way to rise in the goon ranks." Malfoy looked about to retort, but Malik cut him off, "You should be thankful that it wasn't you."

"Killing her achieved nothing." Malfoy hissed, looking annoyed.

Bakura's lips curled into a vicious smile, and Malfoy balked this time at the pure evil emanating from Bakura's form. Malik was mildly impressed.

"Killed her? Who said that I killed her?" Bakura's eyes narrowed in bloodthirsty pleasure, "I _destroyed _her."

End of Chapter

Now, could you imagine how that would look to Lucius Malfoy? I bet the guy was peeing his pants over that. Yay for Bakura's superior lying skills! Yay for Ryou's awesome cuteness! Yay for Malik for an undisclosed reason! Yay!

Well, I updated with a longer chapter this time to apologize for how long it took for me to actually update, so there. I hope you enjoyed it.

Review!


	6. Incentive

Yo, readers. Thanks to the ninja-tastic peeps who reviewed the last chapter. I liked the feedback. In response to the anonymous reviewer, _Scythe_, you need to remember that their magic doesn't function well around the wizarding world's. Neither Malik nor Bakura even know the lengths to which this applies, so they need to be careful about where they experiment. Voldemort is pretty much immune to their magic at this point, because he's so saturated in it (it's like a proverbial shield). If Malik were to control a Death Eater, what do you think Voldemort would do? He may attack Yugi. Now as to why they didn't exercise it in the chase scene...well, under pressure, one doesn't always think up the best ways out, do they? Also, it wouldn't have worked anyways, due to how much magic was in the air at that time (what with all the spells the Death Eaters were shooting.)

I hope that clears up your problem. Now, without further ado, onto the chapter!

Chapter Six

Incentive

"You have been disobedient fools," Lucius Malfoy sneered, his wand drawn and held at Malik's throat. Both teens stood with their hands up in surrender, their eyes narrowed, their legs splayed. Everything about them showed that neither was intimidated by the wizard, but they were submitting anyways. "You were to get information from her before you disposed of her, but you did _not_ do that, did you? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end your sorry existences here and now!"

_"He sounds mad." _Malik said through the link he'd just opened with Bakura. _His _tone, unlike Lucius Malfoy's, was amused. Malik was actually kind of enjoying the whole situation, but then again, that wasn't saying much. Malik usually enjoyed chaos and madness.

Bakura curbed the desire to roll his eyes, _"No, really? Of course he's angry, you fool! Now, let us remedy this unfortunate situation. This isn't the time to be inciting the snake bastard's temper."_

_"Agreed."_

_- Perhaps we should try reasoning with him? Let me out, Bakura. I'm a more convincing face than you are. - _

_"You know, the fact that you two are planning the best way to lie to someone is starting to freak me out. Now I'm wondering just how much of a victim you were at Battle City. Thanks Ryou, now I'm going to have nightmares."_

Bakura hissed out an annoyed noise through his spiritual teeth, _"Save your lunacy for after we've dealt with the present situation."_

"We were not intending to do this." Bakura began carefully, taking necessary measure to keep his voice even. A derisive tone would probably set Malfoy off the edge. "But she insulted my other half. She referred to him as a schizophrenic. Insult to my hikari cannot go unpunished, so I dealt with her."

What a load of bull. In truth, had Ryou been called a schizophrenic, Bakura would probably have laughed at his hikari and made multiple 'voice in your head' references. Like Bakura gave a crap about name calling. No, it would take physical assault or references to Ryou's deceased family to drive Bakura to action against the offender.

Malik's carefully composed expression twitched slightly. Apparently he knew this too, and found it mildly humorous. Well, good for him.

"This will be reported to My Lord." Lucius said in a cold, harsh whisper. As if that was going to intimidate Bakura or Malik. They had spent their free time making _fun_ of the snake bastard. That, or plotting against him.

Malik, ever the budding actor, curled his lip at Lucius, "Fine by me. I'm sure he won't be too displeased, considering the original order was to kill upon sight." Bakura had to hand it to him, Malik was actually a damn fine actor. He had the face down and everything.

Lucius snarled at Malik, angered that he had been proven wrong. "We will see." He said in a low tone before straightening and signaling to the Death Eaters behind him, "Let's take our leave. Those wretched muggles will probably be running out to see what's happened thanks to these two." With one last vicious glare, Lucius apparated away.

Bakura and Malik's eyebrows rose. They didn't know that Malfoy could do something like _that_. Two Death Eaters approached them, one taking the arm of either of them. Annoyed with the contact, Malik turned to glare at the masked wizard that was holding him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He demanded, his body rigid. Had he been an animal, his hackles would have been raised.

"If you are lucky," The one holding Bakura's arm sneered, "You'll survive this, so shut up and let us do our job."

"Which is?" Bakura ventured.

The one holding Malik blew out a sigh from behind his very tacky skull mask. "What Mr. Malfoy just did, _honored_ guests, was apparate. It's instant transportation to another location. Since we have no time to return to our broomsticks, thanks to the both of you, we have to take this route back to the Manor." He explained. Somehow he managed to sound scathing through the entire short explanation.

"And what was the 'if you're lucky you'll survive this' for? Is this particularly dangerous for non-modern magic users?" Bakura asked. He was not going to do something that would possibly injure his hikari just because these guys were paranoid. Not a chance.

The one holding Bakura was obviously smirking behind his mask, simply due to the tone of his voice, "It's called 'splinching'. You may get there in one piece, or you may be missing a limb or two."

"I'm not going to hurt this body." Bakura said coldly, his eyes flashing menacingly, "Don't ask me to do so."

"Well, you haven't a choice, now do you? Just be quiet and pray that you get there with your little body intact." The one holding Bakura told him, and Bakura could feel the sudden flow of energy around his body, centered around the wizard's navel.

Wonderful.

Malik wasn't looking too pleased either, but the magic had already begun, and they had no choice at this point.

A very painful, very jolting pull at Bakura's stomach ripped him from his thoughts, and it felt like he'd suddenly been shoved down a painful, air-tight tube. It was a little agonizing, he admitted, and he had the oddest sensation that Ryou was planning to throw up. That was wonderful too. Ah, he was going to kill these stupid mortals when they got to their destination.

For the sake of Ryou's limbs, though, he remained entirely still through the duration of the trip.

Bakura knew when the magic was finished, because he felt open air, and his feet were touching solid ground again, instead of that unfamiliar, unwanted feeling like he was standing on something soft and precariously balanced. He also could feel the flow of the modern magic returning to its usual, undetectable state. The air was, once again, saturated in Voldemort's power. They were back at the Malfoy Manor.

Bakura could feel no pain, so he gathered that he was thankfully in once piece. A quick glance at a woozy-looking Malik also assured Bakura that his comrade was in one piece. Since he was absolutely sure at this point that they'd survived without any known problems, Bakura did the first thing that came to mind:

He slugged the Death Eater that was holding onto his arm.

Bakura was not a light puncher. In fact, he had a very good punch and very good aim. Being a thief, he'd known all the right pressure points to knock someone out, but he also knew just how hard you whacked a guy when it was necessary to knock him out. In this case, the idiot deserved it.

The Death Eater went down like a lead weight, totally unconscious.

Malik's Death Eater cried out in shock, and leapt towards Bakura in an effort to avenge his fallen friend. Bakura swung his fist, hitting the man directly in the face. He was satisfied when he heard the cracking sound of a broken nose and the howl of pain that ripped from the man's throat. It was pitiful, really.

The Death Eater ripped off his mask so that he could gingerly hold his broken nose in one hand. Blood streamed down his cheeks and lips. His dark eyes landed viciously on Bakura, "You'll regret this, you foolish boy! You will be punished!"

Bakura snarled at the man, snatching the front of his cloak and pulling him up to eye-level. The Death Eater moaned involuntarily as he was jostled. Bakura was just glad to know that he was in pain. "Listen, you pathetic mortal," Bakura hissed darkly. He made sure that his voice was loud enough for all the Death Eaters present, including Lucius Malfoy, to hear. "The agreement was to follow your Master, and we will follow him. We carried out the plan that was detailed to us directly from him. But you," He shook the man for effect, who groaned again, "You are not exempt from our anger. You are _below _me. I could kill you, my magic usable or not, so remember that."

"We're both skilled in fighting, and it's not like we haven't killed before." Malik added, looking almost animalistic with the dark smile he was bearing, "I will not hesitate to end the lives of all of you, and both of us will take great pleasure in cutting reminders to not cross us into your _skin_." Malik reached into his pocket with his uninjured hand and flashed a knife to the small crowd of men and women around them.

Someone started clapping slowly, menacingly, almost. Both Shadow Masters spun around to see Voldemort approaching, the psycho woman walking a few paces behind him, ever the obedient dog. He swept into the room with villainous grace, and stopped a few paces away from the two males. His lips curled up into a smile at the semi-shocked expression on Malik's face and the forced bored one on Bakura's.

_- Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no... - _

_"Shut up, landlord."_

"I see that you two are ascertaining your independence. It's nice to see fighting spirits so present in my midst. You entertain me." Voldemort glanced at Bellatrix, who nodded at him and left the room. Before she disappeared around the corner, she inclined her head slightly to grin viciously at Malik and Bakura, but mostly Bakura. Whatever their silent exchange had meant, it couldn't have been good.

Voldemort's face shifted instantaneously from a patronizing smile to a disappointed frown, "Regardless, you need to be disciplined. Attacking my Death Eaters and going against Lucius's orders is attacking and disobeying me in turn. That is unforgivable."

"We're sorry for disobeying you. It wasn't intentional. But she did insult his host, and he acted as such." Malik pled, hoping that it would prevent whatever the psychotic Bellatrix Lestrange was off to go do.

"Questioning my authority is not going to help you." Voldemort sneered, smiling again, "But I applaud the valiant attempt."

Malik bit his bottom lip, obviously trying very hard not to make a snappy comeback. Bakura was concerned too. What in the world could the snake-bastard possibly be planning? It definitely had something to do with the two of them, but more specifically him, or even Ryou.

"Bellatrix, come back inside." Voldemort instructed, glancing briefly at the closed door.

It was opened with a loud creak, and clanged against the wall. Beside the psycho-woman was a sickly looking man. His hair was barely a shade darker than Ryou's, with a slight bluish hue. His skin was pale, and he sported a very painful looking bruise on his face from where someone must have hit him. He looked up, and his eyes were misty with obvious agony. It was an easy guess that he'd been tortured.

Ryou's emotions swarmed Bakura's mind, and he felt himself pushed roughly and violently back into his soul room with Ryou's agonized horror. Ryou fell to his knees, and Malik grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Malik's eyes were wide and his nostrils flared. How dare they do such a thing?

"No..." Ryou whispered, and tears sprung to his eyes, "F-Father..."

Recognition sparked in the injured man's eyes, and shock mixed with the pain in his deep chocolate gaze, "Ryou? What are you doing here?" He asked in a cracked voice, his chapped lip splitting and bleeding with the sudden use of his voice.

"How long have you had him here?" Malik asked quietly, unable to look at Ryou. Or maybe he was looking at Ryou. All Ryou knew was that he couldn't breathe. It was like his insides were on fire. Was this what shock felt like? He could feel the familiar sense of another consciousness brushing against his barrier of emotions with evident concern. Bakura was worried about him. Bakura was worried because he could no longer sense anything from his landlord.

Ryou's uncontrollable, overwhelming tidal wave of emotions was forcing Bakura's usually dominant presence into the background, while Ryou writhed in pain in the foreground.

Bakura could do nothing. When Ryou's emotions were so unstable, he couldn't do anything to regain control; he couldn't do anything that wouldn't damage his light.

Malik was starting to look slightly panicked also, because the still-linked connection between the two Shadow Masters was forcing Malik to endure the torrent of emotions spilling from Ryou's tortured mind.

It could only have been a second since Malik had spoken, not hours as it had felt for the three young men. Lucius was answering Malik's question with an apathetic tone, "He hasn't been here as long as you have. We captured him a few days ago."

Voldemort waved a hand to silence Lucius, "I knew that you would be very hard to reign in. After all, I cannot have subordinates without need or cause to be allied with me. Therefore, I decided to bring your father in as a guest to provide…incentive for you to obey me."

"You sick bastard." Malik hissed, wincing as another wave of incomprehensible emotion rolled over his mind. It was making it hard for him to concentrate.

"Let us show you," Voldemort sneered, "Why you cannot address me in such an insubordinate fashion, you street grunge." He waved a long, pale hand in Bellatrix's general direction, "If you may, Bellatrix?"

She smiled in contempt at Ryou and Malik, both of whom had snapped to attention upon Voldemort's threat. Ryou's mind was suddenly oddly blank, and Malik was feeling woozy and disoriented from the instantaneous shift. Bellatrix raised her wand and pointed it at the side of Ryou's father's head, and cocked her head to the side, her eyes moving towards the man in sadistic curiosity.

"_Crucio."_ She said simply, and the one simple word ripped an agonized scream from Mr. Bakura's throat. It was met with a shriek of Ryou's, a plea for them to stop.

"No!" Ryou cried out, and Malik had to restrain him to stop him from doing something stupid that could result in furthering his father's injuries, "Please, no! Leave him be! He has nothing to do with this, he doesn't know anything, he doesn't know anything…" His last words were a sorrowful whimper.

Bellatrix flicked her wand away from Mr. Bakura's head, and the man's screams cut off. His unconscious body slumped to the floor, his head hitting the ground with a painful crack. Malik scrambled to check his mind, and was relieved that there was no damage. He relayed this information to Ryou, but Ryou was barely aware of anything but his father at that time.

Ryou broke down into tears at the prone form of his father, and Bellatrix's cruel laughter rung out as a supplement for the screaming of a few moments prior. Bakura, from inside the Ring, was seething with rage. Had he eyes at that time, he would have been seeing red. There was a wrinkle of Shadow Energy present, trying to meet its furious master, but coming up short. It was unreachable in Voldemort's presence.

All of the Death Eaters, sensing the murderous aura emanating from Ryou's body and the sudden drop in temperature, seemed to shiver. Well, aside from Voldemort and the still giggling Bellatrix, of course.

"Now that the proper punishment has been dealt," Voldemort stated, bringing all attention back to him solely, "Bellatrix, return Mr. Bakura to his lodgings and assure that he is nursed back to consciousness under Narcissa's care."

She nodded and dragged Mr. Bakura's body out of the room. Ryou shivered in Malik's hold and went totally limp. Ryou had fainted. There was a slight stirring in Ryou's body, and his eyes snapped open, now a vibrant, blood tainted red. Bakura was standing in an instant, shrugging off Malik's warning hold.

Unlike how Malik had thought Bakura would respond, the spirit remained silent. He glared at Voldemort, who ignored the obvious display of hatred. Malik felt a swell of killer intent, and hissed a quiet caution to his comrade.

Malik's mind was so scrambled right now, he could barely concentrate on reality at hand. He broke off the connection with Bakura, drawing a blank glance, but a glance nonetheless, from the spirit. The glassy look to Malik's usually lively violet eyes spoke volumes to Bakura, and he planned to do something in apology. It was bad enough that his light had gone through that, but now all three minds were disoriented, which wasn't a good thing.

"The both of you will spend the remainder of the evening and night in young Draco Malfoy's room. He will escort you to the express train to Hogwarts in the morning. You may purchase clothing and other necessities in the _muggle _London before the train's leave." Voldemort instructed, that menacing smile back. Bakura wanted to punch that smile right off of that smug bastard's face. "Now go, I have matters to attend to. Lucius, take them to your son's room and return to me immediately."

"Yes, Master." Lucius murmured, ever the obedient dog, just like the psycho-lady.

Malik and Bakura walked silently after Lucius. They didn't have anything to say to Voldemort. After Ryou's breakdown, they had likely lost all respect they may have attained that afternoon, and though Ryou's outburst was well justified, it lost them ground also. There was just no win-win situation when you were trapped in a war like this, especially when it was one that you were in total dark about.

They were as uninformed as the happy non-magic mortals that roamed the London streets, only they weren't at constant risk like Malik and Bakura. They had not yet been pulled forcibly into a war they had nothing to do with.

Malik really could have used one of Yugi's pick-me-up speeches, because he was feeling like total shit.

They walked for a good ten minutes across the wide expanse of the giant mansion. Finally they stopped at a wooden door, where Lucius indicated for them to enter.

"You harm my son in any way, I will kill both of you." Lucius warned. It was all he had to say, and with a meaningful glare, he spun on his heel and left.

Malik opened the door and peered inside. Sitting in a comfortable armchair inside the giant bedroom that was more like a living room and a bedroom in size and furnishing, was a young replica of his father, sneer and all.

"So you're the filthy new prisoners that our Lord has taken an interest in." The boy cast one appraising eye over the two exhausted, defeated forms of Malik and Bakura before sniffing and returning to the book in his hands, "You don't look like much."

Malik snorted, leaning against the wall and sagging to the floor, "Spare me."

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at the deadpan, blatantly disrespectful way that Malik addressed him. Apparently he was used to people kissing his boots and sucking up to him on a daily basis. Too bad for him, then.

"You heard me." Malik murmured, not really interested with coming up with any sort of witty retort. It just wasn't worth it. He was far too drained.

Bakura slid down the wall beside Malik, silently. He rested his elbows on his knees, bowing his head. His long white hair fell in a crown, obscuring his face from view.

"Tell me your names." Draco demanded, returning to his book. "I want to know the names of the two I'll be guiding around at least."

"Malik Ishtar, if you must know." Malik replied, a biting edge to his voice. The razor sharpness was evident of his usual spirited arguing skills, but it had a tired side to it also. It was obvious that Ryou's outburst earlier had taken a drastic toll on his body, mind, and spirit…and his nerves.

Draco rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the vicious response. "And yours?" He asked Bakura.

Bakura didn't respond. In fact, Bakura didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard. His body didn't even shift in the slightest of ways, aside from a steady, even breathing rate.

"What, are you deaf _and _ugly? Tell me your name, I said!" Draco looked affronted now, and was bristling slightly at Bakura having so totally ignored him.

"Shut up," Malik hissed, and Draco's jaw snapped shut automatically from the force behind Malik's words, "He's meditating. I'm sure you're already well aware that Bakura is the ancient spirit dwelling within my friend Ryou's body. I'm sure you also know that Ryou's father was taken captive, and you doubtlessly heard the commotion that went on downstairs. With all that knowledge, I'm sure a smart, slimy little bastard like you can figure out that we're both drained to the brink of our ability to stay conscious. Bakura also needs to console his other half. Ryou is in total shambles right now. Even though you're the son of an apathetic _shit_, you can at least practice a form of empathy by leaving Bakura alone."

Draco's face swelled as if he were about to say something mean, but there was a spark of understanding behind those fierce eyes, and he calmed down. "What about you, then?" He asked in a quieter tone that was sympathetic towards Bakura's need for silence, "Shouldn't you be meditating or whatever?"

Malik shook his head. If he was going to be stuck with this kid, he probably might as well tell him a thing or to. Besides, he was so drained that his filter was not in check at all, "I don't have another half, so I'm not suffering the strain of two minds being sucked of their energy."

"How are you losing your energy?" Draco fired off, his book forgotten in his lap. He appeared interested now.

Malik shrugged slightly, "Our magic wires itself within our emotional systems. It is used mostly through how we feel. If we love someone, our magic will reach out to protect them, but it is more powerful with negative emotions, that allow it to torture and kill." Draco barely concealed his own little shudder at that revelation, "Regardless, the constant connection between our magic and our feelings makes it impossible to turn off. It would be like casting a never-ending spell for you. Our energy is drained on a twenty-four hour basis. We sleep to regain what little of it we can. Essentially, it will be our magic that kills us, and nothing else."

"That's…harsh." Draco said, unable to really think up anything else in response to Malik's explanation.

Malik shook his head, frowning in frustration, "I don't know you. I don't know that you're not going to squeal to your daddy, who will squeal to your 'Master'. I shouldn't be telling you this. I'm tired, I'm drained, I'm going to bed."

"My father had extra cots put it for the both of you." Draco indicated the two small, neatly made beds off to the far end of the sitting area. They were in the furthest corner from Draco's own bed.

Malik nodded tiredly, a silent thank you, and pulled Bakura's arm around his neck to haul him up.

"The…fuck do you want…now…Malik?" Bakura slurred, groaning quietly.

"You're going to sleep in a bed, Bakura. I don't care if you've 'slept in worse'." He spoke with finality, and Bakura didn't respond. He allowed Malik to drag him over to the cots and dump him on one.

Bakura didn't even bother to pull on the covers or take off his shoes before he fell asleep, his back to the rest of the room and his front to the wall.

Malik rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed, taking the time to take his own shoes off. He slipped into the covers, not really caring that Draco was watching with the eyes of an ever-present hawk.

"Night." Draco Malfoy said absently, the force of a habitual politeness. He didn't notice the almost-friendly way of treating his two guests, and returned to his book.

Little did any of the four unsuspecting minds inside that quiet bedroom know, that even though the two separate parties barely knew each other, they would soon become dependent upon a precariously balanced alliance that would determine survival for all of them.

End of Chapter

Neh, if that last paragraph wasn't painfully obvious foreshadowing, then I don't know what is. (shrugs) Well, I tried to make it a longer update. Tell me if you enjoyed. The wheels are really getting movin' now, and they'll be off to Hogwarts in chapter seven.

Drop a review on your way out, please!


	7. Hoggy What?

Thanks again for the reviews. You people really are amazing in your encouragements. Thanks again to those who picked up on some grammatical and/or spelling errors. Those were dumb on my part, and I'm glad that they were pointed out so that I could fix em' up.

Disclaimer: All I wanted for Christmas was to own Yu-Gi-Oh…Santa gave me other crap instead. XD

_Warning: This chapter is rated T for Bakura's exceptionally…detailed use of vocabulary. o.O _

Chapter Seven

Hoggy What?

"Wake up, Ishtar. Come on you lazy idiot, do you really want to be asleep when-?"

Malik cracked an eye open, cutting Malfoy off. He scratched his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes, "What time is it?" He asked tiredly, not really comprehending the '_who' _or the '_why'_ of the situation at hand.

Draco sighed, blowing a haphazard strand of blonde from his face. He hadn't slicked back his hair yet that morning, and it was really getting quite in the way. He was due for a haircut soon. "Listen, Ishtar. I may be the son of a Death Eater, but I'm giving you fair warning to wake the hell up."

"Why?"

"Perhaps it could be because my father will be back in ten minutes with half a mind to blow you up and suffer the consequences with my Lord. I think he'd prefer that over keeping you two alive. He hates others in the spotlight over him."

Malik sat up slowly, yawning the last of the sleepy haze out of his system, "Man, do you have any loyalties to your father, or do you just like to badmouth him behind his back?"

"Shut up and do as I say. _I _have half a mind to blow you up myself." Draco sneered, throwing a towel over his shoulder and taking a few steps away from Malik in the general direction of the door. He glanced backwards at the Egyptian, "Make sure you get to the bathroom down the hall to your left before he comes in here. He won't intrude on you showering."

Malik nodded absently, not really caring about Lucius Malfoy. Malik had definitely dealt with worse…way worse. When he made no indication to say anything more to young Mister Malfoy, Draco sniffed arrogantly and left the room.

He lazily swung his legs over the side of the cot, standing up and stretching his tense muscles. That had to have been the first semi-comfortable sleep he'd had in a while. Malik's hand went to cradle his fractured wrist. It must have been healing quickly, because the pain had dulled considerably over a course of barely a few days. His broken ribs were healing fast too, now they were only a constant, small throbbing…like little bruises along his chest line. That was about it.

At least he was healing faster. That meant his Shadow Magic was leaking back into his body to heal its Master.

"Bakura," Malik said, guessing who would've been the one in control. He never really could tell when they were waking up, but it was as good a guess as ever, considering it was Bakura who'd fallen asleep in control and Bakura who was in slightly better mental condition.

Bakura rolled over, and his eyes opened slowly to reveal muddy brown eyes, not as clear and deep as Ryou's typically were, but brown like Ryou's eyes nonetheless. Malik backtracked; shocked that it was, in fact, the other half in control.

"R-Ryou," Malik choked, his eyes softening at the hollow expression to his friend's face, "Are you feeling better? I thought it would be Bakura in control."

"It's lovely that you care, but I would rather not see you get all sappy on me." Ryou rasped in a voice that was deeper and rougher than his voice could be. Malik reeled back, jolted by the fact that it was, in fact, Bakura in control.

"Shit! What about your eyes? What the hell, Bakura? Aren't your eyes red?" Malik almost-shouted, but managed to keep his voice low enough as to not attract unwanted attention.

Bakura gave his friend a deadpan look, "Do you really think," He droned in a voice that was slightly less sarcastic and biting than usual, "That Ryou is in any shape to be in control right now? He's barely aware of his surroundings in his Soul Room." His expression grew concerned, "He's locked me out completely."

"Link and all…?" Malik ventured, but refrained from going any further because of the sharp glare that Bakura pinned him with.

"Yes, he's terminated the link, if you must know. His soul room's locked, the link is totally blocked…all I can get from my _damn _landlord is a few occasional, haphazard emotions that aren't telling me shit about what he's going through in there!" Bakura punched the mattress in his frustration, his eyes narrowing at the white sheets.

"And this explains your brown eyes because…?"

"I can't totally maintain my persona without Ryou aware, or at least his subconscious aware. With the emotional wreck of a state he's in right now, I'm stuck bearing attributes of both of our personalities. So basically, I'm stuck being both of us while my _hikari_ is being catatonic." Bakura snarled for effect, flopping back over and burying his head in the pillow, groaning. "I've got one hell of a headache, let me tell you."

"I can see that. You're awfully riled up." Malik mused, and then he blinked, realizing something. A small smile spread across his face, "You know, I think that's the first time you've ever referred to Ryou as your _hikari_."

"Shut up, you didn't hear me say that."

"Yes, I did."

"You're delusional."

"Perhaps, but that's not really the point here."

"You've got quite the imagination, now shut the _fuck_ up and stop mixing me up with that _Pharaoh._"

"Touchy…" Malik grumbled, annoyed with Bakura's shorter-than-normal temper. Then again, he couldn't really blame him. For the short period of time Malik had been bearing Ryou's emotions, he'd been overwhelmed almost to the point of unconsciousness. He couldn't even imagine what Bakura was going through.

Bakura grunted at him, "Now why did you intrude upon my rest? Is the snake-bastard summoning us?" It was hard to not notice the absolute loathing in Bakura's voice as he spoke the affectionately given nickname. In fact, it was a tone that was typically reserved for use when Bakura regarded Yami, and Malik knew that Bakura didn't even use such a scathing tone when talking about the Pharaoh anymore. Dare he say it; Bakura was very close to going on a very serious, very gory rampage?

"Draco Malfoy warned me that-"

"Who?" Bakura queried in confusion.

"Ah, right, you were pretty much conked out when we got here." Malik said, "He's Lucius Malfoy's kid. I'm surprised that I'm saying this, but he doesn't seem too bad. The kid's an arrogant little son of a bitch, definitely, but he seems a lot less inclined to the cruelty his father dearest partakes in."

"How comforting, the son is slightly less of a bastard than his father. Good to know." Bakura leaned back again, not entirely willing to get up yet, "Now explain to me how this impudent child applies to why I have to wake up."

"Well, he said that we should probably go get cleaned up in the showers at the end of the hallway, because his dad's coming upstairs…and he's looking for us…and he's out for blood." Malik stood up and turned, slipping his shoes back on. He was suddenly aware of the two little piles containing a towel, a face cloth, a small bottle of shampoo, and a soap bar each on Draco's bed. There was a note from the young wizard:

_Use these, and be thorough. I don't want to be seen with humans filthier than muggles when we're on the train._

_- Draco_

"How nice of him…" Malik muttered, rolling his eyes and crumpling the note.

Bakura stood also, and snatched his respective pile, "Let's go then. I don't think I can see that obedient dog again without leaving bloodstains on their pretty carpets."

"They'll be glad to hear that you're worried about the furnishings." Malik replied sarcastically, giving Bakura a lopsided grin. The smirk was not returned as usual. Bakura just concentrated on walking straight. His eyes were still a muddy brown.

"Let's go. I need a shower." Bakura grumbled, hauling his tired, heavy body towards the door.

Malik followed, placing a hand on the spirit's shoulder, "Are you sure you're okay? Because seriously, man, you look like shit." It was a very blunt way of putting it, but Malik was kind of worried. Bakura was usually an anti-rules spitfire, and today he was being oddly well-behaved.

"Why thank you, Malik. I've always wanted you to show me that you cared by telling me that I 'look like shit.' My life's goal is complete. I shall go die now." Bakura mocked, throwing Malik an annoyed glare and shrugging off the Egyptian's hand. He prowled out of the room, Malik hot in his heels.

"That was very…" Malik began, trying to think of the appropriate adjective to describe what Bakura had just said, "…Detailed." He settled on saying.

If Bakura was planning on responding, it didn't happen. He just continued on down the hallway in the general direction of where he could hear running water. The water turned off, and a wet-haired Draco stepped out, wiping his hands on the already wet towel he was carrying.

"Dear God, what took you so long?" Malfoy asked as he passed them, fixated on Bakura, who he hadn't seen awake before.

Bakura, of course, decided to make a good impression and shove on past Malfoy, not even sparing him a word or a glance. Draco looked affronted.

"What's his problem?"

Malik cocked an eyebrow, "The next time you want to make friends, try pretending that you actually learned some manners. Besides, do you really think that after what he went through, he's going to be all bunnies and rainbows?"

Draco looked away, chastised, and his lips turned down into a frown, "Whatever. I don't really care. Just make sure that you're ready by nine. The train leaves at eleven, and we need to be in London by ten." That said, the younger Malfoy strode off down the hallway towards his bedroom.

Shrugging, as this was to be expected due to the way Draco had acted the night before, Malik sauntered into the bathroom, making sure to click the door shut once he was inside. There, in the bathroom, stood Bakura. He was shirtless and scowling at the mirror, examining the multitude of small white scars that littered his torso and back.

"What are those?" Malik asked in a horrified tone, unable to fathom where Ryou's body could have gotten such scars.

Bakura's hazy brown glare slid from his reflection to Malik's, and his eyes narrowed, "Don't look so shocked. You're not exactly without scars either." When Malik's expression turned dark, but did not move from Bakura's body, the thief sighed, "Why are you ogling me?"

"I asked you a question, now answer it." Malik said in a monotone, still totally unable to figure out how Ryou had acquired such horrible scars.

Bakura's face turned mocking and cold, "I'd have expected you to guess right away. Don't you recall that I used to punish Ryou often? These are _my_ scars. Well, most of them are. Some of them, perhaps, are carry-on scars from my lifetime, but many of them were dealt by me. When Ryou did not do as I told him to, or stood up to me in any way, I would take a blade to his body while I was in control." He gave Malik a mirthless smile, "It was much like how I cut myself to ascertain our alliance back at Battle City."

Malik was having a hard time feeling disgusted, but he had to remember that Bakura's mind was not in the best shape for a while. It still wasn't, but at least he had come out of some of his insanity more recently. Actually, Malik had always figured that Bakura's time in the Shadow Realm had somewhat freed him from his obsession with murdering the Pharaoh.

"I take it you're so disgusted with me that you're speechless." Bakura mused, drawing a finger along one of the longer scars on his shoulder, "This is the reason why Ryou used to flinch at any person's touch. This is the reason why he feared me with such absolution that until I vowed to only protect him, he would only gaze at me with terror-consumed eyes. You could look at Marik with loathing, but imagine how it feels to come out of your hazy insanity and realize that your other half regards you only with feelings of fear and distrust."

"You brought it on yourself."

Bakura punched the wall, barely missing the mirror that he would have doubtlessly shattered. There was a small indent where his fist had been, and blood trailed from his knuckles. This hadn't been done to punish Ryou. This was Bakura, acting out in his rage. "I know that, but if that had been entirely my person, without _him_ taking roost in my mind, I would have been like I am now. Perhaps colder, and a little less trusting of people like you, but those attributes to my personality…they're parts of me that have become harmonic with my light."

Malik waited, allowing Bakura to continue. The spirit did, "If I could redo the first year that I acted as Ryou's darkness, I would. Don't doubt that. I feel great remorse for what I have done to him, and I've been trying to make it up to him these past months that I've known myself."

Malik was feeling rage boil inside of him, "You're blaming it on the Shadows, and on your previous dark master. You can't seriously expect me to believe that you take no blame in this!"

"Do you realize," Bakura snarled, "That I had to show him every memory I have to explain to him why I acted as such before? Do you realize that it wasn't until he'd realized that I'm a pitiful, pathetic mess that he didn't need to be afraid? How dare you even insinuate that I take no blame in this. I take the blame. This is why I expose myself to what I did to this child's body on a regular basis. This is why I protect him with everything I have."

He pulled his hand away, glaring at the blood on his knuckles. He licked the wound, cleaning it with his tongue and getting rid of the small amount of excess blood.

"Is that why you tried so hard to heal Ryou before you were taken off by the wizards?" Malik asked in a softer tone, attempting to amend for his very rude assumptions.

"Perhaps." Bakura answered cryptically, smiling slightly to himself. He shook his head slightly, his white hair billowing around his shoulders, "Regardless, I think we should focus on bathing right now." Bakura turned to go into the shower, where he could take his clothes off in private.

Malik stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and Bakura inclined his head slightly to stare at the Egyptian with question, "Look, Bakura. I already knew about the stuff you did to Ryou. I just…didn't realize that you honestly admitted to it being entirely your fault. I'm sorry for attacking you like that, and…shit, well, I shouldn't judge."

"You judged well within your rights, Malik. Never forget that this is your friend that I tortured mercilessly. Remember that whenever there comes the time to dispose of me." With that, Bakura left.

Malik was left standing in the main section of the extremely large bathroom, alone. He fisted his hand, "Yeah, Bakura. I'll remember." He whispered, too quietly to have been heard, and began to undress.

* * *

Malik had decided that giving the Death Eaters some tips on how to be slightly inconspicuous could help their cause a lot. Now, he wasn't about to go doing that, because he wanted all of them to all choke and die on their own vomit, but they needed pointers nonetheless.

They had only drawn the hoods of their cloaks down as they paraded down the main streets of London on their way to King's Cross station. They hadn't gone inside, for Draco knew his own way, and they wanted to remain unseen.

Like a spectacle like that was easy to ignore.

"This way," Draco directed, waving his hand to indicate a turn left. Malik and Bakura trailed, slightly overwhelmed, behind him. Neither had been in such a crowd of people that weren't duel fanatics, and to see so many people all crammed into one place…well…wow.

Malik nudged the blonde male, who grunted in indignation at the contact, "Oi, how are we going to get to the train without being seen? I thought your society was…well…hidden and all."

"Muggles are stupid in the sense that they never have the brains to pay attention to what's right in front of them. Wizards have been crossing here for as long as the station was built, and we're not about to stop now. Trust me, we won't be seen."

"And where, exactly, is this Platform Nine and Three Quarters? I'm no expert on British customs, but I think I know that there's _no such thing_." Malik fired back, a little annoyed at the way that Malfoy so blatantly insulted non-magic humans.

Draco snorted, "That's funny, Malik. Real funny. Now let's be serious. Of course it's real." Malfoy scoffed, as if Malik had cracked some abominable joke.

Bakura frowned, peering at the two platforms, "Nine…ten…nine…ten…ten…nine…" He threw a hard glare at Malfoy, "Do you seriously expect us to believe in something we cannot see?"

"Oh please, Bakura, have a little more spirit than that," Malik chided, grinning at the flustered look on the spirit's face. He spared a glance at Draco, "Although, I am kind of questioning the kid's sanity."

"I'm the same age as you." Malfoy snapped, annoyed at the nickname Malik had given him. Apparently someone didn't like to be referred to as a child.

Bakura cocked an eyebrow at the comment, "You're over five millennia old? What a coincidence, so am I."

"Well, your body isn't." Malfoy fired off, glaring at Bakura. Then his eyes became oddly blank, and he dared ask the question no sane person would ask, "How's the other guy?"

Malik gulped, glancing at Bakura to see whether or not he'd have to restrain the spirit. Much to his disbelief, however, Bakura just shrugged.

"He's as well as is to be expected."

"So not very well, I take it," Malfoy said, answering his own question. His lips turned down into a pensive frown, "I don't support them kidnapping his father, by the way. I think it's a cowardly thing to do, and my father had always taught me honour."

"Really? I thought you were as much of a slimy, under-the-table git as _your_ father actually is." Bakura replied cynically, losing patience with the topic their conversation had turned to. In fact, he'd have preferred no conversation at all.

"That's a low blow." Malfoy accused.

Bakura pulled his lips back over his teeth in a menacing scowl, "And so is the way your family goes about their business."

Malfoy opened his mouth, a response at the ready, but closed it, apparently thinking better of what he was planning to say. He merely brushed off Bakura's comment and turned back to the platforms, "The gateway to the Express is through the stone pillar marking the exact point between platforms nine and ten. It's a barrier, so muggles feel it as a wall, but as long as you consciously know it's there, you can walk straight through."

"It's right in the middle? Then shouldn't the name be platform nine-and-a-half?" Malik queried, grinning at his own joke.

"Smart ass." Bakura told him, and Malik flipped him off.

Malfoy cleared his throat, "Shall we? Contrary to popular belief, we haven't got all day." He looked very annoyed, and was tapping his foot with his trolley beside him. Malik and Bakura only had carry-on bags with them. After all, they weren't students or anything.

"Oh, he's a sharp one, he is." Malik quipped, grinning as Malfoy sauntering forwards.

"Be discreet about it." Malfoy told him, and Malik gave him a two-fingered salute as the blonde casually stepped through the barrier.

"So, Bakura." Malik said conversationally, "Am I just being paranoid, or is there a Death Eater prowling around behind us to make sure that we actually cross the barrier?"

Bakura gave Malik a fanged grin, "No, there's definitely a slimy bastard somewhere behind us. Shall we prove him wrong?"

"I daresay, we shall." Malik said, hooking arms with a protesting Bakura, hauling up his luggage, and proceeding on through the barrier. Bakura took the time to flip off the Death Eater, who appeared shocked as they disappeared.

Malfoy was waiting for them, still looking particularly impatient. "Jeez, took you long enough." He grumbled.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist." Bakura quoted, and Malik looked shocked. "What?" Bakura asked, annoyed with the look.

"I'm…surprised you know that quote."

"Don't be surprised then." Bakura snapped, cracking his knuckles to add effect to the threat.

Cautious looking people milled around the platform beside an impressive, red express train. It was huge. Bakura suddenly wondered what a non-magic human would think should they accidentally happen upon this thing.

Fainting would certainly ensue.

Bakura had to also wonder just how powerful 'Lord Voldemort' was to have all these people so riled up, especially when the snake bastard himself was lodged so far away. It had to be impressive also, considering that no one appeared to even be trusting the people around them. Parents kissed their children goodbye, obviously unsure of whether sending them off was even a good idea. Perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps this school was the worst place to be at this time.

Other parents appeared perfectly at ease with sending their children off. These ones were Death Eaters or Voldemort supporters for sure.

Malfoy gestured for Malik and Bakura to follow, and they did. People stared at the foreigners and their unfamiliar faces with curiosity and fear. Oh yes, this was definitely a world at war within itself, you could see the toll it'd taken on the general public. It was almost depressing, actually.

"I'm no longer in denial about the whole war thing." Malik whispered offhandedly to Bakura as they climbed up the steps onto the train, "These people look jumpier than Yugi at a horror movie."

"I was thinking the exact same thing." Bakura muttered as they turned the corner down the narrow train hallway, the sliding doors to compartments on either side of them down the entire length of the hall.

Malik brushed Bakura's shoulder with concern, "Hey, how _is_ Ryou? Anything at all?"

"He said my name once. He's more aware of his surroundings now, at least. It's all I can ask for. He's still in shock, and it's still nearly impossible to reach him." Bakura's eyes averted, and he frowned in anxiety.

"Do you want me to try? Maybe I can get through to him."

Bakura shot a nasty glare at his companion, "If I cannot get through to him, an outside friend such as you, no matter how close, will surely fail."

Malik wrinkled his nose at the defensiveness Bakura exhibited, "Jeez, man, it was just a suggestion. 'Don't get your knickers in a twist'."

"I'm going to twist your knickers in a minute: twist them straight up your bony ass." Bakura threatened in a low tone, but it was loud enough to cause Malfoy to glance back in semi-shocked interest.

"That sounds…somewhat painful."

Malfoy stopped walking and threw open a compartment door. He stepped inside, gesturing for Malik and Bakura to follow. "Crabbe and Goyle should be here any minute." He pushed his luggage up into the area above the seats. Malik and Bakura did the same.

"You have cronies?" Malik asked in slight disbelief.

"They're not _cronies_, they're my _friends, _dumb ass." Draco snapped, resting his chin on his palm and peering out the window into the station.

"Ah, my bad. They're practically the same thing."

"To you, maybe."

Bakura snickered as Malik scowled.

"Owned." The spirit said under his breath to Malik.

"Oh, fuck you!"

Malfoy looked a little startled at the very foul language used by the Egyptian. Malik didn't even register that fact.

A few moments later, Bakura and Malik were introduced to Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, who certainly looked more the part of 'cronies' than they did the part of 'friends'. Malik was convinced less and less that they weren't bodyguards for Malfoy of some sort. They looked big enough.

Having been assigned as patrollers of the train to make sure that students stayed in their compartments, it was a terrible pity that the two couldn't sit in the compartment with Malik, Malfoy, and Bakura. Bakura and Malik were very disheartened by this (yeah, right).

Apparently being big, ugly, mildly intimidating, and stupid came in handy when teachers needed discipline to be enforced. At least the two idiots had something to live up to, instead of being large wastes of space.

This was Bakura's point of view on the two young men.

Malfoy cast a glance at Bakura and Malik as the train pulled out of the station with a jerking heave, "So, what do you think?"

"Of…what?" Malik asked as the building of King's Cross Station fell away to beautiful countryside. Perhaps this was a back entrance of sorts, but Malik seriously doubted that. It was probably this modern-day magic at work…again.

The blonde snorted, "…Of what, he says. Of going to Hogwarts, of course. You have to be at least a little excited."

Malik and Bakura exchanged glances, but it was Malik who spoke up first, breaking the silence.

"Hoggy-what?"

End of Chapter

Yay, they're on their way to Hogwarts! Hoorah for a snail-paced plot! At least it's moving! You have to give me a little credit there.

Well, I hope you enjoyed it, and I tried to get this update up fast. =3

Review, please!


	8. Selfish

Yay, I've decided to update! I know that I definitely have issues when it comes to updating my fics, but I have put _Welcome to Hell_ on hiatus so that I can write this nifty little thing. I have multitasking issues too, okay?

I know that a few people were noting Malfoy's difference in character. Well, I didn't quite like the way he was portrayed in book 7, so I figured that for my fic, I'd give him a little more wisdom. I think he'd be very distraught over watching Dumbledore get killed – I mean, Harry was, and Malfoy would probably have been as equally scarred for life, especially considering he was the one who initiated the killing process, it was his job after all.

Since I've been unable to find any record of what Amycus and Alecto Carrow look like (not owned by me, by the way) I've created their appearances. If anyone knows what they really look like, could you tell me in a review?

Anywhoo, thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, and I'm glad you're enjoying it thus far. Thanks for the amazing feedback.

Disclaimer: I still plan to kidnap Bakura and Malik and hold them hostage, bound and shackled. Ryou will be upstairs, having a nice cup of tea and discussing mature matters with me. XD Regardless, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

_- Ryou to Bakura - _

"_Bakura to Ryou"_

"_Malik to Bakura/Ryou"_

Chapter Eight

Selfish

There are occasionally moments in a person's life where they get the proverbial wind knocked out of them by something so overwhelming that they don't know what to do with themselves. Malik, at the moment that the majestic, elegant castle by the name of Hogwarts came into view, experienced one of those moments. Granted, he'd experienced a similar thing upon his first entrance into the outside world, and later when he first saw the shining night lights of Japan. Perhaps he was just easily impressed, but in his defense, he'd grown up underground.

Bakura whistled in appreciation at the large building, but was otherwise uninterested. It was just another giant jail for him, and Bakura didn't like confinement. Had the circumstances not been as they were, he probably would have been slightly more impressed.

They stepped out of the carriage behind Malfoy, who looked mildly bored at the whole thing. Well, he'd been here for seven school years, so he'd seen it a million times already.

Oh well, more ogling for Malik.

"Wow…" The Egyptian breathed, unable to think of much else to say.

"Malik: conversationalist extraordinaire." Bakura mocked, smirking slightly as Malik flipped him the bird in retaliation.

Malfoy looked more amused by their conversation than the castle before them, "Are you two coming, or do you need directions to walk in a straight line?" He asked snootily, needing to keep up that air of asshole-ish-ness that he used as a front.

Both foreigners could tell that Malfoy had a lot more to him than being simply a jerk.

"Can we _move?_ I'm not missing opening celebration dinner for your sakes." Malfoy sneered, crossing his arms and making a show of looking annoyed.

Or, perhaps, Bakura and Malik were looking too far into the whole thing.

"Say, blondie," Bakura began, and Malfoy scowled at the nickname that Bakura had come up with earlier on the train, "I'm all for the gothic, necromancer stuff, but what's with the skeletal horses? I was expecting something a little more…British."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Malik shrugged at Malfoy's defensiveness, "Well, it obviously means that he _wasn't _expecting skeletal horses. Duh…"

Malfoy made an annoyed face at the Egyptian. He'd matched wits with Malik and lost. "They're called Thestrals, and you can only see them if you've seen death." The blonde's expression darkened slightly.

"Since you talk about them so freely, I take it that you can see them also?" Bakura asked Malfoy, totally unfazed by the whole 'only seen if you've seen death' thing. He'd watched hundreds die as they were melted alive into a pot of gold. Ironically, he was also wearing his family and fellow thieves around his neck.

"Yes."

"Who've you seen die?" Malik queried, his curiosity piqued, "I'd have thought that your daddy would have sheltered you from all of that."

Malfoy hesitated, his frown deepening, "I saw…I saw someone die that really shouldn't have. Not then, and I'm paying for it, alright? He gave me a conscience that I didn't have before, and I hate him for it."

"So basically, this guy's death gave you a reason to reconsider _his_ ways, and you're begrudging him for it? Kid, I'd say more like you should be forever _grateful_." Bakura ground out, still very touchy in regard to the dark wizard.

Malfoy's eyes shifted to an emotion that neither Malik nor Bakura could pinpoint. His face suddenly went blank before a wry smile wound onto his features, "Sometimes people think it preferable to have lived ignorantly." He started walking away.

Malik and Bakura exchanged glances, knowing glances, and followed behind the blonde wizard. They wouldn't bring the topic up again. It was a sore spot for Malfoy and both Shadow Masters thought it best to have young Draco on their side for the time being. They needed alliances, and this was the best place to start.

If they were going to come out of this war alive - this war that they had happened upon accidentally - then they were going to need to do some strategizing. This was not something you could run headlong into, especially when you were privy to very minimal information. They didn't even really know what this entire war was truly about.

Bakura blew out a furious sigh, drawing a glance from the violet-eyed male walking beside him. He shook his head; it was nothing to worry about. Bakura was just frustrated. This was a situation that he'd never been in before, and Bakura was not used to being inexperienced.

"What are we going to do, anyways?" Malik queried, sauntering up beside Malfoy. Bakura sauntered up on Malfoy's other side.

Malfoy shrugged, a frown darkening his features, "You're body guards. You're here to enforce his rules and make sure that no one's stepping out of line."

"Wonderful," Malik muttered, glaring at the stone archways as they passed into the school building, "We're going to be symbols of fear to little children. I've always wanted to scar a twelve-year-old for life."

"Why would you want to do that?"

Bakura rolled his eyes, "Please, note the sarcasm."

"Well, you can't ever be sure. Aren't you two like ex-convicts or something?"

Bakura gave Malfoy an incredulous and slightly indignant look, "Don't even insinuate that. To be an ex-con, they'd have to have caught me before." He smirked, extremely pleased with himself now.

"Oh, thank you. That'll make me sleep more comfortably at night." Malfoy replied sardonically with an added snort for emphasis.

"Glad to be of service."

Malik coughed back a laugh at this one, hiding his grin behind his hand. After all, they were supposed to be menacing, abusive, angry Voldy-clones, weren't they? Public displays of any good humour were out of the question.

Some students that they passed stared at them with shocked wariness, some displaying open terror. They knew exactly what these young men were here for.

"It looks like the Carrows are here." Malfoy pointed out, drawing Malik and Bakura's gazes to two tall, crooked figures. They didn't look old, by any stretch, but their bodies looked kind of odd. They stood with hooked fingers, necks bent low, and backs hunched. The woman would have been quite pretty had she been standing straight, with her dazzling white-blonde hair that was pulled back into a long braid. The man had hair almost as long as hers, and he wore it in a braid also. Both of them had very angular faces and darting eyes. The woman had a brown eye and a blue eye, and the man had the same odd iris discoloration. It was odd, but then again, that kind of thing did happen occasionally with twins. They wore billowing black robes that looked wrong against their luminous, pale skin. In fact, everything about them was kind of off-the-norm…at least off-the-norm for these extremely abnormal wizarding folk.

"They look sufficiently menacing." Malik mumbled with eyebrows raised. He was obviously taking in their odd stances also. They looked like animals in mid-flight, prepared to scamper off again upon any kind of startling.

Bakura figured that, at least while they were there, they could have some fun with the two Carrow siblings.

The Carrows both spotted Malik and Bakura at the same time, which just added to the weird factor, and approached the three young men with cat-like gracefulness in their gaits.

It was the man who spoke first, "Good evening, Mister Malfoy, Misters Malik and Bakura. We've heard so much about the two volunteers, and we've been," At this, he glanced at his sister, another smile flickering past his face, "so very eager to meet the both of you."

"Same here," Malik said, leaning slightly away from the two siblings.

"I am Alecto Carrow," The woman said, and her voice was a high, soprano tinkling. It was much unlike her brother's deep, rough voice. Her voice could tell you lies and make you believe them, and that concerned both Shadow Masters. These two siblings could be serious trouble. "And this," She indicated her brother, "Is Amycus. He will be teaching the Dark Arts this year, and I will be teaching Muggle Studies." Her pleasant smile morphed into something wicked again, and Malik felt mildly irked by how quickly her emotions switched back and forth.

Amycus extended a hand, "It is very, very nice to meet you." He said.

Hesitantly at first, Malik shook hands with Amycus. When the hand moved to Bakura, Bakura took it without hesitation, a vicious grin of his own morphing onto his features.

Amycus looked slightly taken aback with Bakura's fierceness, and Bakura's grin widened. Oh yes, he was going to play this up.

"It's so nice to meet children with similar ambitions as I." Bakura said in that rough, dangerous tone that he always used when he was trying to intimidate someone. It appeared to have worked, since Alecto took a small step back. It would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but Bakura definitely saw the miniscule display of submissiveness as a great triumph against the Carrows.

Amycus scowled darkly, "It has been very pleasant to make your acquaintance, Malik and Spirit of the Millennium Items," Bakura's expression flickered at them having knowledge that he was not Ryou. That was annoying. "But we have business elsewhere to attend to. Good night."

With that, the Carrow siblings swept away in a billow of blonde hair and black cloaks.

"That wasn't very smart, you know." Malfoy commented, throwing a sideways glance at Bakura, "They're powerful. I wouldn't reckon you should be messing with them when you can't defend yourselves with _your_ magic yet."

"Mind your own business." Bakura sniffed, and Malik rolled his eyes at the lack of maturity the ancient spirit was displaying.

"Why do you insist on antagonizing people, Bakura?" Malik asked.

Bakura cocked an eyebrow, "You're one to talk."

"…touché."

Malfoy tapped his foot on the stone floor of the magnificent castle's entrance, "Can we please hurry it up? I want to actually make it to the opening ceremony dinner _before_ I die of old age." He spun on his heel and began to walk.

Malik mocked a scandalized look, "You wound me, Malfoy-sama!" He cried, catching up to the blonde.

"Um…'Sama'…?" Malfoy queried, indicating for Malik to continue.

Malik shrugged, "It's a Japanese thing. You wouldn't understand."

"You're Egyptian…aren't you?"

"Yeah, but I speak Japanese too. Hell, I spent most of my Rare Hunter days in Japan."

"I don't really care." Malfoy said, and continued into the giant hallway where two massive wooden double-doors loomed on either side of them. He made his way over to the second table on the left side of the big dining hall and sat down with some people.

Bakura came up behind Malik, who was just standing to the side of the doorway, "Really now, Malik. 'Sama'…?"

Malik rolled his eyes, "Well, no one else is providing any good humour here."

"That could be because we're in a situation that calls for very little humour, Malik." Bakura replied, smirking slightly when the blonde Egyptian threw him a sarcastic look.

They fell into companionable silence for a moment before Malik glanced around, "So, what are we supposed to do? Do we just go sit with our little friend over there?"

"I'd hardly call him our friend, Malik. We haven't ascertained any loyalty from him whatsoever." Bakura said, making sure to keep his voice low as students filed into the hallway.

Bakura's eyes trailed to the giant hall again. There were four very long tables that stretched most of the distance of the hall, two on either side of the centre walkway. At the front of the hall was another table, this one backed with high seats and many older people. This was the teacher's table, no doubt. The ceiling was very curious, as it was re-enacting a peaceful, cloudy night sky. Had he not known better, Bakura would have sworn that there was no ceiling at all.

There was also a very colourful assortment of red, green, blue, and yellow decorations and wall hangings. Four great banners hung over each of the four tables respectively, the one over Malfoy's table a green banner with a silver snake, the one beside it a blue banner with a bronze raven, a red banner backing a beautiful golden lion, and a fourth of a blue-coloured badger.

"Spiffy." Malik commented, obviously observing along with Bakura. Bakura grunted his response.

"Are you Misters Malik Ishtar and Ryou Bakura?" A voice asked. It was raspy, but definitely female.

Both turned around, and were met with an older woman. She was clad in an emerald green robe and a large dark green hat. Her wrinkled face was pulled down into a frown, and the way that her sharp eyes looked somewhat glazed over spoke volumes on what stress she must have recently gone through. She had a sure gait as she moved towards them. All in all, she was definitely lively for an old lady.

"I am Professor McGonagall." The woman said; her voice full of authority. She was definitely one of those teachers that you didn't mess with unless you wanted your intestines strung up around her classroom.

Bakura kept a calculatingly bored expression on his face. They were playing a part, right? They were supposed to be Voldemort's cronies.

"I'm Malik, and this is Bakura…er…Ryou." Malik introduced, holding his hand out in greeting.

McGonagall did not take the hand; she merely fixed Malik with a hard stare. "So young to be in his clutches…" She mused, more to herself than to them. She cleared her throat suddenly, and lifted her chin, "I take it you shall be staying for the opening ceremonies? Your prefect duties aren't necessary until classes begin tomorrow morning."

"_Tomorrow? Jeez, don't they give these kids any time to settle in?"_

"_You're just pissed off because you don't get to sleep in." _Bakura sneered, but his face didn't betray the short exchange in their minds.

"Actually," Bakura began, talking over the conversation for a temporarily whiny Malik, "We would prefer to go to our rooms. I'm sure we don't need to be hearing the student rules."

"Don't you? They're the rules you will be enforcing." McGonagall stated brusquely, her eyes searching for some kind of double-meaning in Bakura's words.

"Quite the contrary, Minerva,"

McGonagall turned and scowled darkly at a tall man clad entirely in black. He had greasy black hair, dark eyes, and a hooked nose. He carried a strong air of darkness around him, and he reeked of murder.

This, Bakura assumed, was a Death Eater.

"Headmaster Snape," McGonagall murmured in a low tone. The word was meant to be spoken in respect, but her lack thereof was obvious. She loathed this man, for whatever reason.

Bakura intended to find out.

"I will brief them on the rules they will be enforcing tomorrow morning before classes begin." Snape said in a sneer-like tone. This guy seemed slimy to Bakura and Malik. "You may escort them to their rooms. I'm sure you can, at least, do that."

McGonagall looked about to say something in retort, but she held her tongue expertly. This woman was obviously very against Voldemort's plight. Malik and Bakura exchanged glances. This woman could definitely be a strong ally for them, especially if she loathed one of Voldemort's henchmen so clearly.

With that, Headmaster Snape slunk, as that was the only word describable for the way this man walked, into the Great Hall. The room was silent as students watched him with wide, fearful eyes. Oh yes, he was definitely known for something.

"Follow me." McGonagall instructed, and she turned on her heel and began leading them in the opposite direction to the Hall. They turned a few corners, down a few more huge corridors, and up a giant flight of moving stairs. Both males kept silence until they reached a door where McGonagall stopped and handed them a very large key.

"This is your room. I hope that you're not against being roommates for the duration of the school year." She intoned. Obviously this woman did not want to be there, with them.

"Not at all," Malik said, and accepted the key. He was prepared to let her go without a word, but Bakura wasn't nearly so hasty for bed. He wanted to give this woman a hint to their intentions.

"What did the Headmaster do to warrant such treatment from a faculty member?" The spirit queried with his interest obvious on his face, "Headmasters are usually renowned for the good things they've done, especially in such a prestigious school."

McGonagall and Bakura stared at each other evenly for a moment, their matching sharp gazes boring into one another. Eventually, a small, wry smile wound its way upon McGonagall's lips before she spoke.

"Headmaster Snape was appointed his position by You-Know-Who himself." She explained, "The Headmaster saw to the end of something that was very important to all of us at Hogwarts, and that is all that needs to be said for now."

"_I saw…I saw someone die that really shouldn't have." _

Bakura examined McGonagall with his eyes thoughtfully. Malfoy's words a while prior were suddenly having more meaning in the spirit's mind.

There was something bigger going on, something that happened that was a crucial piece to this wizarding world's annoyingly complicated jigsaw puzzle.

Bakura needed more information, and he needed it quickly.

"Thank you for telling me." Bakura replied, and Malik was shocked that his words actually sounded semi-honest.

McGonagall pursed her lips, "Listen to me now, boys." She said coldly, her eyes piercing once more, "I may not be able to do much against You-Know-Who, but I promise you this: if you hurt any of the students of Hogwarts, you will have me to answer to. I don't care for the repercussions, either, so don't try to threaten me."

With that said, McGonagall swept her robes behind her, spun on her heel, and swept back down the way she'd come. Bakura watched her billowing cloak until she disappeared around a corner.

"She'll make a good ally." Malik murmured, voicing Bakura's thoughts.

"Yeah," Bakura agreed, "But she's going to have to trust our motives first."

"True."

Malik thrust the key into the keyhole, turned it once, and opened the large wooden door. Inside was a nice sized room with a small living space consisting of a bookcase, two comfortable-looking chairs, and a round red rug. Past the small space were two large beds and a dresser in between them. There were a few wall-hangings, and Bakura had to notice that, like the ones they'd come across on their way to this room, the pictures were moving.

How…disturbing.

Malik immediately fell onto a chair, "What are we going to do now, Bakura?" He asked. This was the first time that question had come up verbally.

"I don't know." The Spirit of the Ring answered truthfully, knitting his eyebrows. This was far too delicate a situation.

The Egyptian sighed, "How screwed are we, Bakura?"

"Do you want the truth?"

"Hell no."

"Then I'll keep quiet."

"Thank you."

They fell into undisputed silence again, both mulling over their thoughts. No matter how little had actually happened, the day had been overwhelming for the both of them.

This would not be easy to get out of, and Bakura was growing more and more concerned about the reality of their situation. He had to consider the unfortunate fact that they might not be getting out of this alive.

"I'm going to contact Ryou." Bakura said suddenly, and his eyes met apprehensive violet. Still, Malik did not speak. He knew what had to be done, and would leave Bakura to it. It was the only way Ryou would be brought out of his nightmarish reclusion.

Bakura made his way to one of the two beds, moving up onto it and sitting cross-legged, his back and head rested against the cool stone of the wall. He took a few deep breaths, and pulled his mind out of the body, and into the hallway between his and Ryou's soul rooms.

"_Ryou…?" He called softly, knocking once on his hikari's soul room door. As he suspected, there was no response. In fact, the room on the other side of the door was eerily silent._

_Bakura sighed, placing both of his hands on the door, "Ryou, listen to me. We can fix this. I promise you, we'll find a way to save your father."_

_There was still nothing._

_The spirit felt rage boiling in the pit of his stomach, and he gritted his teeth. This was getting past ridiculous, and Bakura's temper was thinning._

"_Ryou!" Bakura barked, slamming his bare fists against the door, "You cannot shut out the world like this! Stop being foolish! Do you think moping around and feeling sorry for yourself will fix anything? You're a stupid, stupid landlord if you think that will change the situation!"_

_Bakura punched the door one last time, but since he was not inhabiting a body, he drew no blood. Still, there was pain. It wasn't real pain, though. It was just his mind telling him that there should have been pain, and acting upon that notion._

_He snarled into the locked door, "Let me in." He bit out, his voice low and dangerous. _

_There was the faintest sound of a click, and a door handle materialized on Bakura's side. Feeling a small welling of satisfaction, the thief turned the handle and opened the door, stepping into the pitch black soul room._

"_Add some light, landlord." Bakura commanded._

_Gas lamps appeared along the walls, and lit themselves. The room was illuminated, and Bakura immediately honed in on the shivering, sobbing white form in the furthest corner from the door. _

_Bakura scoffed at the sight. "You're pathetic." He jeered, striding towards the young man and kneeling down in front of him. "Look me in the eye, you fool."_

_Ryou's head did not so much as twitch._

"_Raise your head!" Bakura snarled, grabbing a fistful of Ryou's hair and jolting him up. Ryou's eyes were wide with shock at the spirit's violent actions, but they glazed over almost immediately, as if he no longer cared._

_Bakura bared his teeth. Acting upon his rage at his landlord and sudden impulse, Bakura raised his hand above his head. Narrowing his eyes, he brought his open hand around, and slapped Ryou in the face, so hard that it brought Ryou's head swiveling as far to the side as his neck allowed. His eyes went huge, and he cupped the cheek that had turned red from the painful slap._

"_Ya…mi? Why?"_

_Bakura felt his stomach clench painfully at the betrayal in Ryou's eyes and the horror in his tone. He was thinking back to how his yami used to be, how things had been. _

_His eyes softened slightly, the rage boiling down to a dull throbbing, a small aching. "Ryou, you need to stop doing this. It's hurting you…it's hurting everyone."_

"_Does it matter?" The boy asked, his voice cracking from lack of use. Perhaps it had only been of use when the whimpering or the screaming started._

"_How selfish of you, Ryou." _

_The boy looked up, his eyes vacant. His face still looked so hollow…so lifeless. It was as if Bakura were a movie playing before the boy instead of something real and in front of him._

"_Selfish…?"_

_Bakura snorted, "Yes, selfish. Do you even know where we are? Do you even know that your solitude has caused not only pain for me, but for Malik? Is it your goal to hurt as many people as you can?"_

"_No…"_

_Unhindered by the small act of defiance, Bakura carried on, "Are you so conceited to let your friends get hurt?"_

"_No…"_

"_How about Yugi and his friends?"_

"_No."_

"_How about Malik? How about _me_?"_

"_No…!"_

_A smirk played upon his lips as he dove in for the final blow, "What would your dead mother say to your selfishness?" Ryou shook his head, tearing up, "Would she cry for you? Pity you? Would she even recognize who you are?"_

"_STOP IT!" Ryou screamed, leaping up. He caught Bakura off guard as his fist came around and connected cleanly with the side of the spirit's face. Bakura was sent stumbling back a few steps, landing on the floor._

_As Ryou stood there, legs splayed, eyes flaming with rage, Bakura began to chuckle._

"_S-Stop laughing."_

_Bakura continued to chuckle, clutching his sides as it morphed into full-blown hysterics. Ryou's eyes narrowed._

"_I said stop it!"_

_The laughing bit off immediately, and Bakura stood up, approaching Ryou. The boy seemed to suddenly realize the full implications of what he'd done, and he began shaking._

"_Oh my god…yami…I hit you…" The boy whispered, his hands flying to his mouth. _

_Bakura shrugged, patting his cheek tenderly, "Yeah, I know. You've got a pretty good left hook, landlord. Must've learnt it from me…"_

"_Are you okay?" Ryou asked hurriedly, moving towards his darkness. His chocolate brown eyes roved the spirit's body to make sure that he hadn't caused any other bodily harm._

"_I'm fine, stupid. What do you take me for? I'm not the Pharaoh; I'm not a pansy when it comes down to good old scrapping." Bakura added another snort for effect, but the mocking expression was wiped off of his face immediately. _

"_Are _you_ okay, landlord?"_

_Tears collected in Ryou's eyes, "Define okay."_

"_Ryou, you need to come out of this stupid depression. We _will_ save your old man, even if it kills me to do it."_

"_Don't say that, it's ridiculous." Ryou protested, interlacing his fingers together in a nervous gesture as he slid down the wall of his soul room, back into a seated position._

_Bakura exhaled through his teeth, "Ryou, that's a very real possibility, and you know it. Now, you need to stop this idiocy. It's pathetic, and I am not the darkness of a pathetic, whiny little child, am I?"_

"_No…"_

"_Then don't act like one. You can't just do nothing, Ryou. You can mourn, yes, but you also need to solve the problem. You don't have to do this alone. You have Malik…and you have me." Bakura said in a commanding, serious tone. He needed Ryou to understand this. _

"_But…my father…"_

"_Your father was unprepared for something like this to happen to him. He needs you to be strong for him now. That's all he can ask of you, Ryou. Be strong." Bakura gave Ryou a crooked grin and rested his hand on the snowy top of Ryou's head, "We'll plan this out together, and act on it when we can. This is delicate, and we need to be very careful."_

"_I know that."_

"_Then be real, Ryou. Be real and help us. This is your body too, and I can't run it alone."_

"_Yes you can." Ryou deadpanned._

"_Well, I can, but that's not the point here." Bakura snickered and patted Ryou's head twice before straightening and holding a hand out to help the boy up. "Can you let us help you save him, Ryou?"_

_Ryou felt tears in his eyes, but he wiped them away with his sleeve and took Bakura's hand, letting the spirit pull him up onto his feet. "Thank you, Bakura." He said in earnest, and hugged the spirit._

_Bakura raised his arms slightly, not intending in the slightest to hug Ryou back. He just let the boy hug him and be done with it._

_Once Ryou was finished hugging Bakura, he laughed quietly, "You know, yami…that was very kindhearted of you."_

_Bakura hesitated, blinking a few times, before shrugging nonchalantly, "I think I'm coming down with something. I'm not thinking right." He turned on his heel, proceeding to the door of the soul room. "Let's go."_

_Ryou nodded, smiling. He would follow his darkness anywhere. Besides, Ryou needed to breathe some real air and maybe talk some things out with Malik, whom he'd left for who knows how long. _

"_Oh, and Ryou?"_

"_Yes, yami?"_

"_If you tell the Pharaoh and his cheerleading squad about this, I'll torture you past the brink of insanity. Understand?"_

_Ryou chuckled behind a hand, warmth spreading in his stomach. He hadn't felt this good in a while, "Of course, yami."_

"_Good."_

_Satisfied, Bakura led Ryou out of the soul room._

There was that usual feeling of weightlessness as Ryou's consciousness took control as the active mind. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times. Deciding to test his limbs, Ryou stretched them quickly, before glancing around, confused as to their whereabouts.

Bakura appeared in spirit form beside the boy, _"We arrived at Hogwarts earlier tonight. It's some time past dinner."_

"You've been gone a couple hours." Malik answered, turning in the chair. Ryou was surprised at how such a short exchange between his yami and himself had taken so long. Still, time flowed differently inside their soul rooms than it did in the real world. "And I must say that entire display was the most touching soap opera I've ever had the privilege of listening to."

The spirit looked both confused and affronted, _"Why were you snooping in on us, Malik?" _Bakura demanded coldly.

Malik sniffed, "It was kind of hard not to. You left the link open, and I couldn't close it without your permission. By the way, I'm still baffled as to how you can go from evil, to semi-friendly, to supportive, and back to evil in one conversation." The Egyptian was shaking his head as he spoke.

"_Well, you should have tried your best not to listen, then. Fool…"_

"I tried, trust me. English novels don't help for much distraction when there's drama going on inside your roommate's head."

"_Whoops."_

"Yeah, whoops is right." Malik grumbled, before turning a concerned eye to Ryou, "How are you feeling?"

"Better, I suppose." Ryou said, pushing off of the bed. "Is there anything we can do?"

Malik shrugged, feigning boredom. It was obvious that there was something that he wanted to do. "Well, all the kiddies have gone off to bed, and I think the teachers have all gone around yelling 'curfew', so it's safe to say that running around the castle would not be on our to do list."

"_So I take it we're exploring, then." _Bakura stated, flashing an appropriate mischievous, fanged smirk.

Malik nodded somberly, "Of course." His mock seriousness faded away instantly into an excited grin. He was obviously eager to get into trouble.

Ryou sighed and stood up, following Malik to the door. He was the only one who didn't see this as a perfect opportunity to cause problems.

Ryou glanced up at the ceiling, "Why do I feel like this is a bad idea?"

End of Chapter

Yay, I finished this within two weeks of the last chapter! Hooray! I actually feel kind of good about this one. At least they got to Hogwarts and solved Ryou's depression somewhat in the span of one chapter. You have to agree, that's the most action that's happened in one update. XD

I hope you liked it. Review please!


	9. Bound By Strings

Thankies for all of the very kind, very wonderful reviews! I can't describe how thrilled I am that this story is so well enjoyed, especially since it's my first crossover ever. X3 Yay!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, and in case my prior disclaimers never mentioned this: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, and since I am NOT J.K. Rowling, I DON'T own Harry Potter either. XD Just making sure.

Chapter Nine

Bound By Strings

"I swear, Malik. If we'd been caught…I don't even want to think about what would have happened if we'd been caught."

Malik snorted at his worried, white-haired friend, "Ryou, it's not as if we were doing anything serious. All we did was check out the school and break into a couple classrooms. Besides, you did most of the work."

Ryou threw his hands in the air, "Bakura did most of the work, not me! I had no part in that at all!"

"Oh please, you were just as curious as we were."

"Hardly, Malik," Ryou said with a frown. It was true. Ryou had been protesting Malik and Bakura's little excursion around the school grounds the entire time. It hadn't made a difference, of course, but he was going to refuse taking any part in sharing the blame on this particular little trip.

"_Jeez, loosen up, landlord. You're wound tighter than a ball of yarn."_

Ryou knit his eyebrows at the nonchalance of his darkness's voice, _- Yami, what if you'd been caught? You know that Voldemort would have been very angry and might have...might have… - _

The boy trailed off, feeling his stomach twist up. He didn't even want to think about what Voldemort might have done…no, _would _have done.

"_Stop getting all feisty about it. We didn't get caught, so quit pestering me." _Even though Bakura's statement was true, Ryou remained unwavering and unimpressed.

"You both need to be more careful about what you do now." Ryou murmured, but there was underlying force behind his words that was rarely present in the boy's typically soft-spoken manner.

Malik blinked at the tone of voice. "Ryou, we were just scouting out the school. It's not like we massacred the place." He pushed the door open, letting Ryou pass him before clanking the big door closed and locking it.

Students milled around past them. Malik had been expecting them to be a little wary, especially during a war, but he hadn't expected the ones near them to jump at the mere opening of a door. It was ridiculous.

"Man, this is crazy…" Malik hissed through his teeth, and Ryou glanced over at him with a curious frown.

"How?"

"How is it not?"

Ryou's eyes lowered, and his face gained that melancholy expression where someone was thinking about something that they'd rather not be thinking about.

Malik put a hand on the white-haired boy's shoulder, "Ryou, sorry. I wasn't trying to make you think about that."

Ryou shook his head, shrugging off Malik's hand, "It's not a problem, Malik. I know you weren't."

The concerning thing wasn't the fact that Ryou had so immediately put up a smiling, friendly front. What was concerning, however, was the fact that Ryou hadn't even bothered to deny having been thinking about it.

"So…" Malik ventured, unable to really think of anything else to say, "Do _you _remember the way to that giant hall?"

Ryou fixed Malik with a deadpan look, "Weren't you the one who was 'scouting out the school' last night?" He didn't even bother to conceal the sarcasm.

"Touché."

"You've been saying that a lot lately." Ryou commented, indicating for Malik to head down the stairs. Malik did.

With a grin, the Egyptian stretched his arms behind his head, "Yeah, I should get in the game now and make it my catch phrase. Then I can charge people for saying it."

"I doubt you'd make much money. You're the only person who uses that line…"

"…touché."

"I rest my case."

Malik shook his head in amusement, "Wow, you really are getting to be a smart ass, Ryou." He observed, nudging Ryou in the rib cage, "Bad influence, isn't he?"

"How is your wrist?"

"What?"

Ryou smiled slightly, a tad smug at having caught Malik off-guard, "I asked: how is your wrist? Is it any better?"

"That was…very random of you." Malik mumbled, but lifted the wrist that was still encased in a mummy-like cast. "Aside from your inability to maintain a lengthily conversation, no, it is not better. This school is worse than he is for condensed magic. Every single freaking stone in this castle is totally saturated in it…jeez…"

"So what you're trying to say is that you're healing normally now, correct?" Ryou pressed, a frown on his face again.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"That's not good." Ryou muttered. He bit his lip, frowning deeper.

"Don't worry yourself sick over it," Malik told the boy, trying to lighten Ryou's proverbial load. "It's not that big of a deal, after all, I-"

"…Have had worse, yes. I know, Malik, but that doesn't make it any better." Ryou cut off the Egyptian, who looked mildly annoyed.

"How's your ankle?"

"Healed."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"…Fuck you."

"The sentiment is appreciated, Malik." Ryou replied, the frown disappearing, and a grin replacing it. The witty banter between the two always made for a half-decent pick-me-up.

"You and Bakura and your giant vocabularies…" Malik snarled under his breath, and stuck his hand out on impulse when Ryou tripped on one of the stairs. "Watch yourself." He murmured, cocking an eyebrow, "Your ankle…?" He guessed.

"No, I just wasn't paying attention." Ryou replied, falsely sheepish.

Malik wasn't a fool. The dim pain in Ryou's eyes and the hard set of his jaw was explanation enough. Ryou's ankle was about as healed as Malik's wrist was.

"Trying to be a tough guy, aren't you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Stop trying to act like you're carrying the whole freaking world on your shoulders," Malik said, poking Ryou in the ribs lightly, "Trust me, and this is spoken from experience: trying to carry the world on just your own shoulders is mental and emotional suicide."

"What a nice image."

"I try."

Still, Ryou managed to bring up a small smile, "But thank you, Malik. I understand what you were saying…regardless of how it lacked eloquence."

"What? Eloquence is my middle name!" Malik declared, striking a triumphant expression.

Ryou blinked, "Do you even know what eloquence means?" He asked. The innocence in his tone was something that could only be mustered up by Ryou when insulting someone. Only Ryou could do that. It was why no one could ever stay mad at the guy.

It was also why everyone seemed to take advantage of him.

"Do you?" Ryou pressed, as Malik stayed embarrassedly silent.

"I haven't a clue."

"That's what I thought."

Malik flipped Ryou off, not because he'd just been outwitted and made a fool of, but because of the uncharacteristically smug expression on the white-haired young man's face.

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep."

"I sincerely hope not. That might trigger Bakura's temper."

"_Hell yeah it will."_

"Okay, even _I _felt the killer instinct, and he's not even in control. What the hell?" Malik was, as one might say, mildly hyper.

It was the lack of sleep, or at least that was his alibi.

"Ryou," Malik suddenly murmured, elbowing the young boy in the ribs…again. "Weren't we supposed to go to the Headmaster's office?"

"I don't know."

"Right…you weren't coherent at the time." Malik suddenly grew pensive, before pouting in annoyance, "Why am I the only one who's coherent for the important stuff? What's wrong with you two?"

Ryou went silent.

"Does Bakura know if we have to see the Headmaster?" Malik finally asked.

"_Tell him yes, we are, and no, I don't know how to get there. Also tell him to shut up, because his voice is grating on my nerves."_

Ryou passed on Bakura's words to Malik, but edited out the last sentence. He really didn't see the need for it. Bakura cussed at Ryou for editing his messages to the Tomb Keeper.

Malik assumed that the twitching of Ryou's eye wasn't coincidental, "Bakura's pissed, isn't he?"

"No, he just wants me to stop editing his messages."

"Well you wouldn't have to if he wasn't such a jerk."

"_I swear, Tomb Keeper, I am going to carve respect into your flesh!"_

Malik winced, the very short, very precise threat having reached his mind through Bakura's temporary link. Thankfully, the link was closed almost immediately afterwards. Malik let out a sigh of relief, and bit his cheek to avoid inciting Bakura's temper further.

That was the end of their conversation, and the two proceeded down the moving staircases and back the way they'd come. Bakura had voiced through Ryou briefly that it would be better to go back to that hall, because whoever was escorting them would undoubtedly be waiting there. He also said that he couldn't wait to see the Headmaster's office, because their searches for it had been disappointingly fruitless the night before.

It was once again made very apparent how wary these students were of them. It was odd, especially since they hadn't been announced publicly or anything, and even if they had, it was a one in a how-many-people-were-here chance that _all _the kids would guess right.

Both foreign young men had to wonder just how bad this war really was to make such young people so terrified of any person they did not recognize. From the looks they were giving each other, it was also apparent that they were distrusting of people they _did_ recognize also. This was even more concerning.

Just what kind of war had they walked into?

Many questions, such as that, were needed to be answered. When did this happen? How long had it been going on? Who was the Mister Potter Voldemort spoke of? What was his importance? Who had died here to make McGonagall so hateful of the Headmaster?

And most importantly: How were they going to get out of this alive?

They were walking on the razor's edge in their lives as it was, and this war had them pretty much walking on cracked ice. Their situation was unstable, and it could shatter beyond repair at any given moment, with or without warning.

They needed help, and both knew it.

"Misters Ishtar and Bakura…?"

Both immediately recognized McGonagall's voice, and looked up. She was clad in the same outfit she'd worn the previous night, or at least one that was extremely similar. Her eyes still looked tired…dull, even. There was just something off about the way she appeared, something that didn't look like it was part of her.

Ryou attempted to smile nicely at her, but his smile looked just as tired as her eyes did, but perhaps a little less cold. "Good morning, Professor."

"How did you know she's a professor?" Malik asked quietly in an offhand tone.

Ryou gave Malik a 'look'. "Only staff can live here, Malik."

"Oh. Well how'd you know _that?_"

"Common sense: most boarding schools do that."

McGonagall cleared her throat to quiet them, and swept her cloak to the side, "Follow me." She instructed clearly, spinning on her heel and proceeding down the hallway opposite to the grand dining hall.

She didn't speak for the duration of their trip. It was just like she'd acted before. She showed no animosity towards them, but it didn't take a psychic to know that the loathing, distrust, and disgust were there. Anything to do with Voldemort seemed to make this woman want to retch, and they'd barely heard ten sentences from her.

"_She will be almost impossible to gain the trust of."_

Ryou nodded his agreement; _- Nothing we say will make her trust us. She's too caught up with us serving Voldemort. Should we tell her it's not voluntary? –_

"_Telling her that it's against our will won't change a thing." _Bakura answered, thwarting Ryou's idea, _"We'll have to prove that we don't follow Voldemort, and even that may not sway her. It's an annoying fact that your best possible allies are always the hardest ones to gain the trust of."_

Ryou could only agree. That was one fact that was all too true, and unfortunately all the worse for their situation.

_- But there has to be something that we can do. – _Ryou mumbled through the link, physically only showing the outward signs of frustration by creasing his brow in what appeared to be deep thought.

"_There isn't. Only time will possibly rectify this."_

_-How can it rectify anything if there was no trust to begin with? –_

"_Oh shut up, hikari. You're being more pessimistic than I am."_

Ryou's jaw snapped shut audibly, and Malik cast a concerned glance his way. When he saw the wide-eyed, obvious surprised look on Ryou's face, he elbowed him for answers. Ryou paid him no heed.

- _Did you just…call me your hikari? –_

"_No."_

_- Yes, you did! -_

"_I said this to Malik and I'll say it to you: you're delusional." _There was obvious discomfort in the spirit's tone. He'd been caught.

_- Thank you, Yami. –_

"_Fucking Pharaoh…I swear to Ra I am never going near him again. His pathetic little softie influence is rubbing off on me."_

_- That's not necessarily a bad thing. – _

There was an audible snarl from Bakura, and it was so powerful that it escaped Ryou's throat in their physical body. Malik's eyes widened in surprise and McGonagall's eyes snapped towards them for a fraction of a second's notice.

Ryou blushed, shaking his head at Malik before turning back to the conversation.

"_Don't ever think that I will become anything like that Pharaoh. I hate everything he's done, everything he stands for, and everything he _is_. Period. End of conversation."_

Ryou attempted to soothe his angered other half, _- Yami, I-I'm sorry…I didn't mean that you should become like him. I don't _want_ you to become like him. I only mean that…that you don't have to hide being human sometimes. After all, even though you're a spirit, you're still human. –_

"_That's a bit of an oxymoron, Ryou."_

Still, Ryou was relieved to note that the razor-sharp edge to Bakura's voice was gone, and was replaced with the normal sarcastic bite to it.

"…_Do you like being called hikari?"_

_- I beg your pardon? – _Ryou asked, extremely caught off-guard by the sudden, very out of character question.

"_Never mind. We'll continue this conversation later."_

_- What? – _

"_I said never mind. So stop talking about it."_

_- O-Okay… -_

They finally reached the end of the hallway, and both Malik and Bakura recognized the weird statue in its alcove. It looked like a mix between many different birds, mammals, and a gargoyle.

McGonagall stepped towards the statue, "Veritaserum." She stated loudly, and flicked her hands at the creature.

There was the high-pitched keening sound of stone grating on stone as the statue began to turn upwards, revealing a set of stairs winding upwards from its base. The stairs led up to the top of the alcove.

"Wow." Malik said, "Sneaky."

Ryou really had nothing to add to that, because he was equally impressed, so he kept his mouth shut.

McGonagall watched silently until the gargoyle stopped moving. Then she turned to Ryou and Malik, "He's waiting for you."

Malik and Ryou made to walk up the stairs, but McGonagall took a hand to Ryou's shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Ryou blinked, wide-eyed, afraid that she might use a spell on him.

"You would be wise," She said in a cutting tone, "To heed my warning from last night."

Malik grabbed Ryou's arm, pulling him out of the woman's surprisingly strong grasp, "We will, trust me."

"If only I could." She mused, a ghostly smile appearing on her face. Even though she was the wrinkliest elderly woman Malik had ever seen, all of a sudden she looked _old_. The strength behind her eyes was gone for a moment.

"Just because you don't want to, doesn't mean you can't." Malik replied in a forceful, but meaningful tone. He brought his eyes up to hers, and saw that hardness again, and was a little disappointed that he couldn't get it out when she was vulnerable, "If we weren't so tightly bound to him, so closely wound in his puppeteer strings, then both of us would take the opportunity to slit his throat. I mean that."

McGonagall's expression did not change, "Then, for you, it is simply a matter of cutting the strings that he holds you by."

"It's not that easy."

"Nothing ever is." She replied, her voice soft all of a sudden. Her hands, which were folded one-over-the-other suddenly clenched tightly. She was obviously remembering something very, very painful.

Ryou turned his own pleading gaze to McGonagall. If she hated Voldemort this much, then she had to be about the only person that they could trust, "But what if-"

"_Ryou, don't tell her too much. We're only speculating, we don't know absolutely if this woman can be trusted."_

_- I know she can be trusted, yami. -_

"_You need to be weaned off of the mini-Pharaoh's influence I reckon, with that talk."_

He ignored the jab courtesy of his dark half, and balled his own hands into tight fists, "What if someone you love has been put on the line because you were stupid? What if that person will die if you even attempt to sever those strings?"

McGonagall's eyes seemed to be flecked with empathy, but the words that came out of her mouth were anything but. The words that she spoke were the hard, stone cold truth, "Then you need to understand the meaning of sacrifice. It's inevitable in war."

Ryou bit down hard on his lip, and drew a small, thin line of blood. He turned his head away, and stepped onto the first stair, "I can't do that."

"Then I cannot help you."

Neither Malik nor Ryou glanced back at the elderly woman who could have been their ally. Malik put a hand on the small of Ryou's back and pushed him up a few stairs, but enough so that Ryou could not chance a look back to see McGonagall's cold eyes.

"She's already made her choice, Ryou." Malik murmured to comfort his friend, "And we've made ours."

It was the only explanation that he could provide, and Ryou nodded weakly in understanding.

They walked through the giant wooden door and into the Headmaster's office. It was a huge room, with a very large wooden desk at the front. The walls were empty of anything, aside from the squares of lighter shaded stone where pictures once hung. Many pictures, it seemed, had been taken down.

There was much clutter around the room, but it appeared that the majority of it was covered by great black sheets. There was something about this room that the Headmaster appeared to be avoiding seeing, but what?

It was annoying still, Malik mused, to have it rubbed in their faces just how uninformed they were.

The windows had the shutters drawn and bolted, so very little light streamed into the room. In fact, the best light source was an eerie lamp sitting on the Headmaster's desk. In the chair behind the desk was the man they'd seen the day before.

"Welcome," He said, his slippery voice, his dark eyebrows pulled down low over his beady black eyes.

Malik shifted so that he was slightly angled towards the door instead of to the man he was speaking to, "Thank you for the hospitality. I'm sure that our Master is pleased with the way we expect you to treat us."

"Is that a threat or foresight?" The man asked quickly, his hands folding on the desk.

"It's a hope, nothing more."

"Be sure it stays that way."

Wow, two minutes into the conversation and all three of them already hated this guy. There was just something…_not right_ about him.

"I am Severus Snape," He introduced, standing up and moving around the desk to stand at the front of it, "Here is what this meeting is about. I am going to tell you the rules that you must enforce, and the other duties you have here. When you need to contact your Master, you will do so through me. After I have explained the rules, you boys will leave and begin your duties. Any tomfoolery and I promise you, my Lord will not see you so kindly anymore."

Malik and Ryou remained silent, but the tenseness of their bodies spoke volumes for how much both of them – and Ryou wasn't much for violence – wanted to hit this guy.

"You are to assure that all students stay in their classes. They must learn their studies, not coast through them at amicable speed. They cannot be out of their dormitories after eight o'clock, which is precisely one hour after dinner in the Great Hall ends. Are you following me, so far, Misters Ishtar and Bakura?"

"Yes." Malik replied through his teeth. Ryou remained studiously silent.

"Students are not allowed in the Forbidden Forest. That is a long-held Hogwarts rule, and I pray that you will enforce it to the best of your…abilities." Snape sneered, before continuing, "Keep students out of the Restricted section of the library."

When Snape did not continue, Malik glanced up, "Is that all?"

"No," Snape said, pulling a roll of parchment out of his cloak and handing it to Malik, who accepted it, but did not open it. "Those are the finer rules, all of them. I expect no students to break these rules under your supervision. I will be sadly disappointed if these students all manage to avoid punishment because you two are inept."

Malik balled his fists tightly, nearly tearing through the parchment.

"_I want to kill this guy."_

_- So does Malik. -_

Snape swept back to his desk, seating himself once more, "Oh," He said, looking up at them from under his eyebrows and greasy hair, "Don't let Mr. Harry Potter anywhere inside the school grounds. He is an expelled student, and is very dangerous."

So he was basically the one trying to thwart Voldemort's plans, and apparently was doing enough of a good job to pose something of a threat.

"Is he a threat to the students?" Malik asked. He had half a mind to throw in 'or to your position', but that would have gotten him into trouble.

Snape seemed eager to tack on an evil tag to this Harry Potter, "Yes, he is. He is mentally unstable at this time, and is on the run from the Ministry of Magic, who needs to apprehend him before he hurts any more people."

Ryou blinked, "So he's hurt people before?"

"Yes, many wizard authorities have been injured while attempting to capture him safely." Snape replied.

So this kid had hurt a couple of Death Eaters. Malik wanted to give him a medal and a pat on the back, not a death warrant.

"I am not saying that you should kill him," Snape said, suddenly snapping back into a very business-like façade, " I am simply stating that he needs to be apprehended before any young witches or wizards get hurt."

"Any accomplices?"

"Two that are traveling with him. There are many shielding him from our grasp, but that is to be expected. There is resistance acting against our good-will, and they will stop at nothing to thwart us."

This guy was such a smooth-talker that it was disgusting. There was such a fake edge to every word he hung off of that Malik wanted to shove a brick down his throat.

"The students will be almost finished their breakfast meal now." Snape said suddenly, glancing at the clock stacked up against the wall to the Headmaster's right, "You are dismissed."

"Thank you, Headmaster, for your time." Ryou murmured, bowing slightly. He grabbed Malik's shirt collar and led him out of the room. They made a hasty retreat down the stairs, and the gargoyle replaced itself to its original position as soon as they stepped off of the stairs.

Malik curled his lip, glaring back up the alcove to the closed door, "Man, that was the briefest meeting I've ever been in, and I have to say: I hate the guy almost as much as I hate Voldemort."

Ryou nodded, glancing down the empty hallway, "Agreed." He said quickly, before nudging Malik's shoulder. "We should go."

"Yeah, I'm hungry."

Ryou nodded again, letting Malik lead the way back towards the Great Hall. He clenched his hands together tightly, worriedly, his eyebrows creasing in frustration.

McGonagall's words had pierced into Ryou's very essence. It was the exact thing he didn't want to hear, and yet it was exactly what he knew was the truth. The only way they would get out of this alive was to cut all strings they had to Voldemort.

But how could Ryou ever forsake his own father? He cared more about his father's life than he did his own!

Malik turned to give Ryou a worried look, but Ryou shook his head to placate him, "It's nothing, Malik." He mumbled, "Just thinking."

The concerned expression didn't leave his face as he turned his head back to the hallway ahead of him.

…_You need to understand the meaning of sacrifice. It is inevitable in war._

_Avenge us._

End of Chapter

Ooh, stuff is starting to happen, people. I know, it's a miracle. There's going to be a huge time skip right around the middle of the fic, where many months pass leading up to the war, so I'm trying to bide my time up until that point.

Just after the time skip is where the action really gets moving.

But the suspense is building to the climax right now. :3

Review!


	10. A Matter of Trust

Okay, I don't know how many times I've had to grovel at your feet because of my unpardonable laziness…but…Well; here I am again, hoping that you can forgive me for taking an entire month to update.

God, I suck. XD

I hope that this chapter makes up for my horrible suckiness.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter. I lust to own Yu-Gi-Oh (mostly Bakura's body). Unfortunately, no matter how much I want to, I don't own either of these stories, characters, plot lines, etc. They belong to their respective owners.

Chapter Nine

A Matter of Trust

Being an enforcer of the rules as opposed to a breaker of the rules had to be the dullest job _ever._ It was one of those things that made one's day drag on and on. Bakura had to think that perhaps a polite decline of Voldemort's proposal may have been more kind than this torturous, slow, agonizing death.

"Drama queen." Malik muttered under his breath. Bakura's head snapped to the Egyptian on his right, and his eyes narrowed darkly as Malik's smirk widened.

The Spirit edged slightly closer to Malik, inconspicuously enough for the students nearby not to think much of it. To Malik, however…well…he knew he was in some serious trouble. "What did I tell you," Bakura queried in a deadly quiet voice, "About reading my mind when it's unnecessary?"

Malik gulped and took a step sharply to the left, bringing some distance between the two again, "In my defense," He replied in one of those guilty, but worried tones, "I can't help seeing snippets of your mind when you're so close to me and my hand happens to brush the Rod."

_- It _is_ true, Yami. He's not trying to read our mind. - _

"_That doesn't give him the excuse to be vocal about it."_

_- …but still… can't you be nice? - _

"_Landlord, that has to be almost as stupid as that time you asked if I could leave my knife at home."_

Malik shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, wincing as he caught the tail end of the conversation, and purposely averting his eyes to avoid contact with Bakura's malicious red irises. He didn't want to get in trouble again. Once was hair raising enough.

They'd started this annoying cycle on their first day. They started morning patrol, up until lunch time, where all the students milled back into the giant hall which was, coincidentally, named the Great Hall. The two patrollers were told by the Headmaster to sit at Slytherin table. They did so, and found that Malfoy was quite the snob when amongst his peers. It was an annoying personality shift, and Bakura had been tempted on many occasions just to slap the boy around a bit.

Lunch had passed quicker than the rest of the day had, and they found themselves patrolling the halls again, making sure that all the students were getting to class. All stragglers were to be given the detention slips that Malik and Bakura had been equipped with by McGonagall, who had decided that talking to them was obviously beneath her. She regarded them with quick, blunt instructions and nothing more.

That was further proving to be an increasingly tough situation to remedy. In fact, Bakura had called a short group meeting and told both Malik and Ryou that attempting to force the woman to trust them wasn't going to achieve much. After that, they'd sighed and decided that, perhaps, it wasn't best to tempt fate where McGonagall was concerned.

After classes finished, they just got to walk around freely until curfew, where they had to make sure that students were in their dormitories and no longer tearing about the school. This also was a tedious task, because the school was huge.

A week had passed, only a week, and the three had already fallen into a pattern. It was a boring pattern, but a pattern nonetheless.

It'd been fairly obvious to the both of them that with the little contact that they were making with the students, that they were being avoided. They were fine with that, though. They'd already agreed that forming ties with these wizards would only prove to be a problem later on.

And they couldn't afford to present Voldemort with anything more that he could hold against the three of them. It would probably make them do something stupid and rash.

Malik sighed, stopping his walking and leaning against one of the cold, stone walls of the corridor leading to the dungeons. "This is ridiculous. How long will it take for us to get our magic back?" He lifted his arm into the air and fisted his hand. His eyebrows knitted in concentration and frustration, and he began to draw blood from his palm. There was no visible result, aside from a tiny popping sound and Malik's entire form withering, suddenly looking like he'd been through a triathlon.

"It was you who said that we needed to be patient about this."

"And lo and behold, I'm the one losing my patience. Whoop-de-_fucking_-doo. This still doesn't solve the problem."

Bakura snorted, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets, "Stop being so melodramatic." Malik scowled at the jibe, "We can't change anything. We just have to wait."

"What if we don't have enough time?" Malik asked, his voice softening ever so slightly, "What if we run out…of all of this time that you say we have?"

Bakura's face or voice did not soften with Malik's words. Instead, his face hardened, and his voice became brittle and cold, "Then we will fight tooth-and-nail until we die, Malik."

_- And we will save my father... - _

"…_No matter what it takes." _Bakura snarled, finishing Ryou's sentence for him. His words were a promise. He refused to give up.

Ryou pushed forth a half-hearted smile from his soul room.

Malik gritted his teeth, "This is ridiculous."

"What is?" Bakura asked, narrow red eyes sliding to the side to regard the tanned blonde male with curiosity.

"Everything."

"We've already established that…multiple times." Bakura replied, sniffing and turning his head away to survey the students that bounded past, whispering cautions about the two foreigners to their friends.

"But still, why does everything happen to us?" Malik asked grudgingly. He hated self-pity, but he was in a really bad mood.

"Possibly because no matter how holy everyone thinks they are, the Gods are sadists and take sick pleasure in watching us fall into turmoil after turmoil?"

Malik snorted back laughter.

"Was it that funny, or was I just missing the joke?" Bakura asked, his eyes turning to slate. Apparently, he wasn't in much of a joking mood, regardless of how his words could have been construed as amusing.

Just for good measure, Bakura threw a glare and a vicious sneer in the direction of a young student that happened to be walking by. The young girl squealed in shock and dashed off towards her classroom. Poor girl was probably shaking in her knee-highs.

The Egyptian cleared his throat, "Was that necessary?"

"I'm in a bad mood."

"Really…?" Malik asked, frowning and crossing his arms in a pose that usually entailed sarcasm, "Because you seemed so very chipper this morning…"

"You're asking for it, Tomb Keeper." Bakura warned, his eyebrows pulling downwards.

_- You're very bi-polar today, actually. – _Ryou observed, tapping his hands together from inside his soul room. He'd busied himself re-reading a novel that he'd remembered reading from a few years ago. Thus was the pleasure of a soul room: you could read books that you'd read and enjoyed a few years back. Unfortunately, he could not draw any new reading material into his mind.

Bakura snorted, _"Whose side are you on?"_

_- Malik's, naturally. -_

"_Cheeky landlord…"_

A few students passed by silently, all eyes on Malik and Bakura, the terrifying new disciplinary committee. When Malik glanced their way - more curiously than angrily like Bakura had done to the girl a moment earlier - the students that had been staring picked up their pace and never made eye-contact with him again.

Malik briefly wondered how easy it would be to make one of the little ones pee their pants. The thought was dismissed, however, when he realized that that would not be winning them any favors with any people who may be allies.

Oh well; old, bad habits die hard, he figured. After all, Malik _had_ had that whole villain thing going for a while.

His eyes darkened at the recollection. The Battle City Tournament was not a time he wished to revisit.

Bakura gave the Egyptian a curious nudge at the flicker of contempt in the blonde's eyes. Malik shook his head, and Bakura nodded back in acknowledgement. The spirit knew exactly what Malik had been thinking about, and also knew that pressing the matter would not bode well.

_- It must be so tough for him. - _

Bakura blinked at the soft-spoken words from his light, _"What do you mean?"_

_- Well, he always has to act…I mean, up until a few months ago, Malik was the leader of the Rare Hunters. His entire goal in life was to defeat Yugi and the Pharaoh and gain their power. Now that he's been forced to rethink his old habits… - _Ryou trailed off.

The spirit snorted, _"It's not like we aren't in the same boat."_

Ryou shook his head meaningfully, _- We're not the same. Malik had to do it alone. –_

"You_ had to do it alone, landlord." _Bakura spat, his own expression darkening. Ryou _had_ had to do it alone, and Bakura had been the force holding him back from his potential. Even still, he was holding Ryou back from being all that he could be.

_- Stop that. – _Ryou admonished, frowning at his other half, _- You're doing nothing of the sort. You're like the brother I never had. -_

"_Yes, because…" _Bakura stopped the next sentence, his dark expression turning to an angry scowl.

_Because older brothers viciously beat their siblings, right? No regrets, ne?_

He wanted to say that. He wanted to express the self-loathing to his light, but that would be self-pity, which was something that Bakura did not tolerate. It was weakness, to pity one's self, and Bakura was not weak.

He refused to be weak.

Ryou went quiet. He hadn't heard what Bakura wanted to say through his thoughts, but he'd gotten the gist of it from the feel of the silence between them.

It seemed that on the topic of self-pity, Bakura and Malik seemed to be thinking along similar trains of thought.

"I would ask that you boys refrain from scaring my students." A man said. It was Slughorn, the Potions master. He seemed to be a fairly easy-going teacher, but he certainly did not show much patience for the two members of the disciplinary committee.

Neither Malik nor Bakura bothered to respond. The man had said the same thing the other two times that week that they'd ventured down into the dungeons, and the first time the argument had resulted in a few threats and some very bruised egos.

Slughorn smiled somewhat cynically, before moving past them. There was a dark aura emanating from him. He was definitely not a happy camper at the moment. Perhaps he'd recently had a chat with the 'loving' Headmaster.

If only these good teachers knew, and truthfully understood, that Malik, Bakura, and Ryou were not in this of their own volition.

Being victims of circumstance sucked.

Malik pushed himself off of the wall, arching his back slightly to stretch it, "Let's go, Bakura. The atmosphere down here isn't exactly something out of the Care Bears."

"Nothing in the sane world is like the Care Bears, Malik. If there happens to be such a place, I would like to visit."

"To taint it?"

A hint of smugness. "You know me so well."

Malik snickered, and led the way through the winding dungeons. After about ten minutes of wandering the dark, dank corridors that were lined with eerie statues of tragic mythical scenes or creatures, they made it to the staircase. Clean air wafted down the stone steps, and both took deep breaths. The air down in the dungeons was repugnant in its scent and thick enough to practically _see_.

Malik didn't know how anyone could maintain an entire concentrated class down there. It was hard enough to concentrate down there for ten minutes, let alone an entire hour or more.

"Where shall we patrol next, o' honoured patrol-buddy of mine?" Malik queried as they proceeded down a random hallway.

Bakura frowned, shrugging. He didn't really care. It wasn't like they were actually going to make an effort – aside from giving a show for Snape or the Carrows – to carry out Voldemort's orders and rules. They hated them as much as the next guy, or at least, the next guy who was anti-Voldemort.

"C'mon, Bakura…just give a wave and decide for me."

The spirit's sharp eyes snapped to Malik's face with an aggravated gleam, "Is it absolutely impossible for you to comprehend the phrase 'I'm not in the mood'?" He asked in the grumpiest tone he could muster.

"Is it impossible for you to comprehend the phrase 'I don't care'?" Malik jeered, smirking as Bakura's entire form tensed.

Malik only barely dodged the swing of Bakura's fist as it came around. Considering how good an aim the thief was, Malik was quite proud of his lucky getaway. He took a few precautionary steps away from the fuming spirit and grinned, "C'mon, Bakura, what was that for?"

"That doesn't even warrant a response." Bakura snarled, prowling forwards and past Malik, snatching the front of his violet top and dragging him off down the hallway that led to the small courtyard at the back of the grounds.

Malik smirked at the set glare of Bakura as he led Malik down the winding path that made its way down the steep hill behind the school, "In the mood for frolicking through the forest, Bakura?" The Egyptian teased, not succeeding in wriggling out of Bakura's iron grip.

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Should I be worried, then?"

"Very much so."

There was a slight upward tugging of Bakura's lips at the short exchange between them. Perhaps he wasn't in so much of a foul mood after all.

"See? We're making progress!" Malik exclaimed in glee, "You _can_ be happy when you put your mind to it!"

"We're going to see where I'll put my _foot_ if you don't clam it." Bakura sneered at the other male, who snickered quietly at the threat. Malik was rarely one to take threats seriously, and Bakura was no exception to that rule.

It took a really bad situation to make Malik take threats seriously. For example, Voldemort's threats…yeah. Malik was taking those seriously. The Carrows?

As for them, they could choke in a pit of their own idiocy for all he cared.

They passed the Grounds Keeper, Hagrid, who was working in his garden of giant pumpkins and a wide variety of un-appetizing vegetables. The man, who ought to have been part giant considering how huge he was, blinked up at his visitors.

Unlike most of the teachers of the school, Hagrid did not glare at them when he realized who they were. His entire expression just went totally blank, which could have been considered as worse than malignant intentions, but he did not have any rage to his mind or form.

From reading his expressions, since he was still having trouble reading any minds aside from Ryou and Bakura's due to his seriously lacking magic at the time, Malik had deduced that this guy was a total softie. Still, he didn't want to get between that guy and any hard object, because those thick arms were probably not as soft as his personality seemed.

"Yeh can't go in there, y'know." He mumbled as they passed him on their way into the Forbidden Forest, "It's forbidden to students."

"But we're not students." Bakura reminded the large man. Hagrid seemed to look a little offended for a minute, before looking slightly embarrassed as his slip, before his expression went blank once more.

He heaved up a mutated carrot from the dirt, "Jus' don't go gettin' into trouble. I'll have tuh clean up the mess."

_- Did he just insinuate that we're going to die by being torn to shreds? – _Ryou squeaked, sounding particularly uncomfortable and mildly afraid. Through Bakura's eyes, he surveyed the giant, daunting trees with a newfound wariness.

"_Tch, well, then he doesn't know us."_

_- Well, I'd say it's a pretty good guess for anyone as defenseless as we are. -_

"_Don't worry, landlord. We'll be fine."_

_- Says you. - _

"_Yes, and…?"_

_- You always say that. -_

"_So, considering we're still alive, you shouldn't be fretting about it so much."_

Ryou fell broodingly silent, ultimately deciding that arguing with Bakura on this matter was not going to make any headway. The thief was usually pretty set on his decisions, anyways. It wasn't like he could force him to turn around.

Still, he didn't like that look in Malik's eyes.

"So, should we capture the biggest thing we find in there and have a giant bonfire tonight?"

"You're an idiot, Malik." Bakura deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

Some of the things that Egyptian said just made next to no sense, if any at all.

"Why are we out here, anyways?" The blonde suddenly queried, glancing around at the huge, foreboding trees surrounding them. The light of the school grounds had almost ceased to filter into the forest entirely, and they were suddenly engulfed in eerie, green shadow.

"I wanted to come out here." Bakura answered simply, a frown spreading across his face. He suddenly looked very wary, his blood red eyes snapping to attention.

Malik shivered at the look on his face, "What's wrong?"

"This shadow doesn't feel right."

"As in…?"

Bakura's already dark frown deepened into something of a scowl, "It doesn't feel _right_. There's no familiarity…it's too…green."

"Yeah, forests tend to look that way." Malik smarted, smirking at the eye roll his comment brought from Bakura.

"I didn't mean _that_, you impudent fool. I _meant_ that the shadow doesn't feel dark. It just feels…alive. There's no darkness or light to this place. It's oddly in-between." Bakura's annoyed expression suddenly melted into child-like curiosity at this new revelation.

Malik grew wary, "And is this a good thing…?"

"Perhaps," Bakura answered cryptically, "Or perhaps not. I couldn't really tell you at this point, now could I? We aren't dead yet, so start counting your blessings."

Malik snorted, "Anything else, Mother Nature?"

Bakura ignored the jibe, and instead moved forwards, touching a hand to the trunk of a giant tree, "Mm…this forest is very old indeed…at least a thousand…maybe two thousand years old."

"Wow, that old?" Malik asked with an impressed whistle, "That's nuts."

"_I'm_ older than that, idiot."

"Yeah, and you shock me every minute I spend with you. Now, can we do what you came here to do? I really don't want to find myself without a limb by the day's end." Malik fidgeted with his pants, uncomfortable.

Bakura immediately snapped out of his weird little reverie and grinned somewhat manically at Malik, "Worried, are we?"

"Frankly, yes," Malik answered without hesitation, his head swiveling from side-to-side in a dramatic show of looking for danger. "So, since we've established that, let's _go._"

And, as if like on queue, or like an annoying, terrible clichéd moment, there was the scream of a young woman…further inside the forest.

Bakura and Malik's heads both snapped up, and Malik glanced to Bakura.

"Hear that?"

"What, the desperate plea of an annoyingly passé damsel in distress?" Bakura replied, snorting slightly, "Yes, I heard it."

"Figures this corny crap would only happen to us."

"Figures, indeed."

_- Stop joking around! Someone might be hurt…o-or worse! -_

Bakura rolled his eyes, but took his hikari's advice and spurred into a sprint, Malik hot on his heels. What a coincidence, then, that this distressing woman was located further into the dark forest.

The hair on the back of Bakura's neck prickled as they continued deeper into the woods. This forest was definitely not a place he wanted to remain for so long. Bakura liked creepy, but this was just too eerie a place for his taste.

The forest seemed so displaced, almost like it was awaiting being the setting for some sort of unmistakable tragedy.

At the sound of another cry, this one much less shrill than the first, Bakura picked up speed. Man, he seriously hated having to play the do-gooder.

* * *

Luna Lovegood often found herself in the oddest, sometimes most dangerous of situations. This one was, unfortunately, of the latter's nature. She'd only been wandering through the forest, bare-foot as usual, to visit the Thestrals, all of whom were very lonely in these very dark times.

She felt so bad for them, so she decided to pay them a visit.

In fact, she'd paid the Thestrals a few visits, and no time before had she come face-to-face with piercing red eyes and an open maw that exposed sharp, elongated canines. Oh yes, Luna had found herself in quite the predicament.

And still, even as she was backed up against a tree with a monster not two feet from her throat, Luna had to wonder something very peculiar indeed:

_My, they're not quite as pretty as we were led to thought, now are they?_

Her second thought was:

_Perhaps I am as loony as my fellow students tend to believe._

The red-eyed, fanged creature laughed a deep, rugged chuckle that sounded both strangely dangerous and – dare she say it, sexy, at the same time.

_Oh, what a time for my hormones to kick in. And it's not even a human. _Luna thought - no sarcasm at all in her mind, only a simple statement of fact.

"Hey, tall, cloaked, and ugly! Get away from blondie!"

Luna glanced up to see a young man leaping towards the monster, a very large branch clutched in his hands like a club. He landed close to Luna and her attacker, swinging his makeshift weapon once to force the monster to leap back and away from her.

His hair was very blonde also, so Luna thought that he really ought not to be calling _her _a 'blondie'.

"Why are you preying on helpless little girls anyways? Isn't there something meatier to go munch on?" The blonde boy quipped, waving a tanned hand enthusiastically. Still, throughout his whole tirade, his body never uncoiled itself from its fighting stance.

"Insssssolent whelp!" The monster screeched, lunging for the boy in a blind, pride-driven rage.

The blonde smirked, and let out a short, but very loud whistle. Suddenly, a white blur dropped from the trees above them, so fast that Luna nearly missed the entire scene. The creature screamed again as it was sent flying into a nearby tree, making a dent with the velocity in which it flew.

Beside the blonde, another young man uncoiled himself. Suddenly, Luna recognized the both of them. They were that new disciplinary committee that patrolled the school under the Headmaster, and further, Voldemort's command.

The second boy had long, wild hair that was a shocking white. It was white like snow in a morning blizzard, untamed and untouched. His body was thin, young, and had very little muscle. For someone of this body-type, Luna couldn't figure out how he'd managed to fight with the skills of a well-built and well-trained warrior.

Unlike the blonde boy, whose eyes were a deep shade of romantic violet; this young man had cold, flat eyes that were the colour of the reddest blood.

How strange.

The white-haired boy blinked at his friend, "Was that a vampire, Malik, or doth mine eyes deceive me?"

"It was indeed," The blonde replied solemnly, and snickered, all solemnity lost, "May I ask where you learned your Anglo-Saxon?"

"Ryou."

"And he learned it from…?"

"How the hell should I know? And why would I care?" The red-eyed one snapped, but not in an angry way, more in the way that a friend would snap at another close friend while exchanging witty banter.

The blonde, now known as Malik, shrugged slightly, and turned his attention back to the vampire, which had lifted itself from the tree and prepared once more for combat.

"Hey, when did you get up in that tree?" Malik asked suddenly, glancing quickly at his friend, "Because seriously, Bakura, I didn't even notice you'd left."

"I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or be insulted." The white-haired boy responded, smirking in an almost animalistic fashion as the vampire snarled again, baring its sharp teeth.

Luna was awed as the two boys leapt into combat with the vampire. The blonde boy was parrying the monster backwards with a flurry of moves involving his improvised club, and the white-haired one had slipped a knife out of his pocket. He then proceeded to maneuver behind the vampire, and, using an almost inhumane swiftness, shoved his weapon into the back of the creature's throat. Blood sprayed out, spattering his face and the front of his shirt in deep crimson.

The monster couldn't even scream, due to the location of the blow, and crumpled to the ground, twitching as its life drained through it.

She was only mildly disgusted as she watched the creature's limbs stop twitching and its crimson irises roll into the back of its head.

It was done.

"Hey, stupid," The blonde said, suddenly focused on Luna, "What in the world possessed you to come into this forest, huh? Do you want to sign your death warrant and wrap it all up in nice ribbons?"

She nearly giggled at the odd way he worded his last sentence, but opted not to stir his bad side. "Well, I was visiting the Thestrals, of course."

"What-strals?"

The white-haired young man rolled his eyes, still in the process of cleaning his dagger with his pant leg, "She said 'Thestrals', you dolt. Unfortunately, I haven't a clue what these 'Thestrals' are." His job done, he re-hid the knife somewhere on his person (Luna hadn't caught the movement, for it was much too quick) and also made her the subject of his attention, "Care to explain?"

"They're skeletal horses," Luna explained, that dreamy-quality flowing back into her voice, "You can only see them if you've seen death. They're really quite gentle, if you allow yourself to get past their appearances."

"Creepy."

Luna shook her head, a smile on her face, "No, not really."

The white-haired boy – his name was Bakura, Luna did believe – nudged his friend's rib cage, "Malik, let's go. You didn't want to be in here in the first place."

Malik nodded at his friend, "Sure." He glanced at Luna, and her eyes met that deep, unpredictable violet again, "Make sure you get back to the school, okay kid? You're only alive right now because we happened to be here."

Luna nodded absently, her thoughts whirling as to these two enigmatic young men.

Malik turned, giving her a two-fingered salute, before padding off after his friend, who'd already started to leave.

She sat there, only a few feet away from the carcass of a monster that had tried to kill her only moments before, and pondered. Her eyes fell half-lidded with thought, and a half-frown adorned her features.

"How curious." She whispered to herself, a smile suddenly appearing on her face.

Don't judge a book by its cover, her father always had told her.

_Perhaps, _Luna thought in wonderment and amusement,_ there is more than just a Voldemort-following cover to some books._

_And perhaps, _She reflected, standing up and dusting herself off, _Hogwarts is making a very terrible decision in misjudging these two particular books._

Happy with her small moment of insight, Luna skipped off back towards Hogwarts grounds, whistling a merry tune.

End of Chapter

I know that the last chapter had very little of Bakura in it, but I wanted a little focus on Ryou for once. I flipped back through the story and realized that the main friendship focus is Malik and Bakura thus far, instead of all three of them. This, hopefully, balanced it out a bit. Chapter eight touched on Bakura and Ryou's friendship, and so did this one, along with a little friendship bonding between Malik and Ryou.

Oh, and I'm not entirely sure if Luna ever went back to Hogwarts. Thus, this may be a bit of a stretch with my creative license, okay? As far as I was concerned, she was at Hogwarts up until she was captured by Death Eaters and later held hostage in the Malfoy Mansion. When she escaped, she went on to fight in the giant war on Hogwarts grounds. That's what I thought it was. XD

Also, thanks for all the lovely reviews I got for chapter nine! You're far too flattering!

Review! I like feedback, especially constructive criticism.


	11. Stirrings

I've been trying to pump this out as fast as I possibly could, but the writer's block is just killing me. It's not a lack of inspiration, because I've got a fairly well-planned plot, but it's just a matter of getting there that's causing me some issues. Besides, school has been torture recently, and I've found myself in a bit of a spot when it comes to free time for writing.

I just want to make a point of saying this next bit. As the story progresses, and Malik and Bakura are more thoroughly integrated into the HP 7 world, the HP 7 world will become quite a bit more AU. Obviously, certain things about the end won't change, but Malfoy's allegiances, certain characters' personalities, etc, etc WILL change. I just want to get that across, before the complaints start due to lack of 'sticking to the HP 7 storyline'.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, nor do I own Harry Potter. They both belong to their respective owners, and unfortunately, neither of them are me. (sniffle)

Chapter Eleven

Stirrings

By the time the two young spell-casters had reached the school after a short bout of exploration, twilight had struck, casting an eerie glow across the inky lake that surrounded the great castle. Their footsteps were about the only sounds as they padded across the courtyard near the large turret that held the Astronomy and Divination classes.

"So, what do you think about that blonde girl? What was her name, anyways?"

Bakura glanced at Malik, who'd asked the question totally out of the blue. A teasing grin spread across his face, "What, interested…?"

Malik snorted, "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He threw the thief a withering look, "Honestly, I was just curious."

"Which leads to interest, which leads to crushes, which leads to love, which eventually leads to-"

Malik cut the ancient spirit off by slamming his hand against his mouth before he could scar anyone for life. That 'anyone' consisting of himself and poor, innocent, naïve Ryou. He didn't know how Ryou had managed to keep his innocence sharing a body with someone as perverted and maniacal as Bakura.

Bakura's eyes narrowed into angry slits, and he mumbled an unintelligible command from behind the Egyptian's hand. Malik refused to remove his hand.

"You've got to swear up and down that you won't say anything creepy if I remove my hand."

Bakura muttered something again, and inclined his head to gain Malik's attention. The young man glanced over to where Bakura had indicated, and saw two students standing nearby, watching with worried attentiveness.

One of them was tall and lanky, but he looked like a total pushover. He had long, floppy brown hair, pale skin, and his uniform was terrible rumpled. The other one was small, with long black hair and very tanned skin. Her eyes were wide, a fearful blue.

"Hey, you two, something interesting?" Malik barked at them, putting on a hard face. He let go of Bakura, who'd stepped back to thrust his hands into his pockets and slouch slightly. His eyes averted to watch something else, perhaps the owls flying to and from that giant tower…er…the Owlery. Apparently he was fairly bored with this whole maneuver.

The reaction was instantaneous and painfully stereotypical. The boy took a firm hold on the younger girl's arm and yanked hard enough to spin her away from the two prefects. He said something to her that Malik didn't catch, either from hearing or lip reading, and watched as he dragged her away.

She seemed to glance back, one last time, and say something to him. He just shook his head and kept pulling her down the courtyard and back into the school.

Malik relaxed, dropping leisurely onto the grass. He blew out a tired sigh, his eyes half-lidded and his head thrown back so that he faced the sky that was pockmarked with little twinkling stars, "Why did we sign up, again? I can't stand being a spectacle."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with attention when you were taking over the world." Bakura pointed out, easing onto the ground beside the young Egyptian male.

Malik didn't say anything, but Bakura did catch him fisting his hands in the grass, and his brow creasing in sudden thought.

Perhaps it was the fact that he'd basically just rubbed salt in Malik's un-healable would, or perhaps it was just the fact that he was in something of a good mood that night, after killing something for the first time in a while. Either way, Bakura, the Thief King of Ancient Egypt, leaned back against the cool grass and frowned deeply.

"Malik, I'm sorry. But we can't exactly change the fact that we're the best thing for them to gawk at right now."

The expression on Malik's face completely wiped Bakura's little moment of empathy, and the spirit glared at the young man with irritation. "You know, staring at me isn't helping the whole desire for lack of gawking, you imbecile."

Malik snorted, looking away, "Well, so much for shock at your change of heart. Jeez, took me a minute to figure out which one of you it was. Only Ryou would actually apologize."

"Hm, well, Ryou's sleeping right now, so that he can be in control tomorrow, so obviously not." Bakura grumbled, putting his hands behind his head, "Can't even apologize without being reamed out anymore…"

"Whoa boy, calm down." Malik said, his palms out in a gesture of defeat, "I was _just_ saying."

"Well, perhaps you shouldn't be 'just saying' then." The spirit snapped, and closed his eyes. He could have been sleeping, for the relaxed way that he appeared, but Malik knew better. The spirit was just thinking, definitely not sleeping. Bakura may have been reborn into the modern world where things tended to be much safer, but he had never lost the instinct to only sleep where assassins or palace guards couldn't get to him.

Malik plucked a small strand of grass from the dirt, holding it eye-level. He didn't exactly know why he was examining a blade of grass, but either way, he was bored enough to be doing it.

"Shouldn't we be going back to the school? Do something that His Highness, Oh Long-Nosed One proclaims?" The Egyptian asked, tossing the piece of grass up in the air so that it could float along the wind and disappear.

Bakura shifted in the grass, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply through his nostrils. He didn't want to think about Snape, or Voldemort, or their task right now. He was, finally, at peace for a moment. It was something that he intended to savor, or at least for as long as was possible. "Not yet, Malik." He murmured, spreading his arms and legs out so that he was in a star-formation.

Malik grinned slightly and rolled over once, as to avoid Bakura's extending limbs. He didn't lie down and close his eyes like the spirit had, but he did lean back on his elbows, drawing in the scent of the grass, mixed with the general smells that came with a fairly natural night. It was amazing how well nature had been preserved at this school. He definitely had to give them all props for it.

"_Well, I was visiting the Thestrals, of course."_

"_What-strals?"_

The Egyptian's forehead creased in concentration. There was just something about that girl…something off. She was different from the rest of the Hogwarts students. When she'd seen them, and she definitely knew who they were, and even saw them kill a sentient being…there'd been no fear in her eyes. Not even a hint of true intimidation. She just…wasn't bothered by them.

Who _was_ this kid? What kind of person felt no fear after watching someone kill so brutally? Was it so common in her life that she no longer felt that kind of terror?

Regardless, she was an odd one. And Malik had a feeling that they'd be counting on her in the future. She definitely seemed to be more of a dependable personality than Malfoy, no matter how little of her he'd seen.

"Might I ask why you two are out here, or is it just a Japanese thing?"

Speak of the devil.

Bakura lifted his head, his eyes half-open, half-shut as he acknowledged Malfoy, "Why are you here?"

"And I'm Egyptian. I'm not Japanese, dumb ass."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at Malik's interjection. He moved towards them and sat down a few steps away from where their feet were situated.

"How are you both settling in?" Malfoy asked, twiddling with a few pieces of loose grass. He crossed his legs, to sit in a more comfortable position.

Malik cocked an eyebrow, "Why the sudden interest, Draco?" The young man scowled at the use of his first name, "I figured that once you were back with your posse, you didn't really have any concern for us. Was giving that idea intentional, or was it just me coming to wild conclusions?"

Malfoy winced at the venom, the sound of almost-betrayal in the young Egyptian's voice. He could understand it, though. Malik and Bakura had almost depended on Malfoy to be their sturdy shoulder, in a way. It didn't matter that they didn't know him very well. He'd expressed a distinct interest on their behalf, and had tethered himself to them within a span of a couple days. The mere fact that he'd offered, and they'd taken that offer, should have made enough of a difference that he would have helped them some at the school.

Based on that assumption, then, Malfoy had come up decidedly short. And the sad thing was, he knew it.

"I have to keep up appearances." He explained, sounding more pleading than cross, "How would my fellow Slytherins react if I showed them how my father's little club has changed me? If they see that I'm not quite…how I used to be, then it'll get around to my father and…" He trailed off, biting his lip worriedly.

"And you'll be caught between a rock and a Voldemort-related hard place?" Malik finished for the young blonde male, his violet eyes not quite as hard as they'd been a moment before.

When one was as desperate as he was for comradeship, he had to retain a certain level of empathy for another person's Catch 22.

"Exactly." Malfoy said, letting out a sigh of relief that Malik seemed to understand.

Bakura let out a soft snort, "Sucks to be you, then."

Malfoy's sharp eyes snapped to Bakura's form, "No, it sucks to be the both of _you_. If my father is suspicious that I'm not entirely loyal to _My Lord_, then I'll have no chance of being any kind of help to you. Think about that."

The explanation was pretty blunt, but still, it was the bitter, unwanted truth. Malfoy was as caught up in the web as they were. He couldn't do anything openly to show any kind of ties to Malik or Bakura without his father forcing him to cut all communication with them. They either put up with Malfoy's extremely annoying act of being a total jerk, or they lost a crutch that they couldn't afford to lose.

"Still, you're a total prick." Bakura stated, letting his head fall back onto the cool courtyard grass, "Just so you know." He added. It didn't really help make the statement any more polite, if that was the intended effect.

Malfoy averted his eyes, mildly ashamed, "You know, a year ago, that wouldn't have bothered me. I probably would have hexed you for your disobedience...but now…"

"But now you've done that terrible thing called maturing, and suddenly you find that beating others up over not staying in their place is, frankly, unsatisfying." Bakura mumbled, his words barely clear to the other two, due to his position. He waved his hand around in almost drunken gestures as he spoke. It was more of a smart-aleck thing, but he looked sort of drunk.

Malfoy pursed his lips at the rather blunt manner of Bakura's words. "Well, yes, if you wish to put it in such a mundane way." He sniffed, trying to recollect as much pride as he could, where Bakura had wounded his ego.

"Mundane…huh…" Bakura murmured, smirking and spreading his arms out like eagle-wings again.

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"It's funny that you'd use such a word." The spirit explained, "Because it's not something commonly associated with an undead."

"You're a zombie?" Malfoy asked, the sarcasm seeping deeply into his tone.

Bakura snorted. He appeared cynically amused with Malfoy's words, "Undead, yes. Zombie…? No."

"Yeah, zombies are smarter."

Malik was very lucky that Bakura hadn't been sitting up, or the kick that was sent towards him would have been dead-on. The bruise would have been painful, and knowing Bakura's way of inflicting injuries, it would have lasted much longer than necessary.

Malfoy let out a noise of irritation at the display of serious _lack_ of maturity on the two foreigners' parts. "Can't you two be serious about anything?" He inquired in exasperation, uncrossing his legs and leaning back, to be a little more comfortable.

"Not often."

"I tend to prefer the opposite to such blasphemy."

Bakura gave the blonde Egyptian a surprised glance, "Blasphemy?"

"Indeed."

"Do you even know the meaning of such a word?"

Malik shrugged, "Its synonyms are sacrilege, irreverence, etcetera, etcetera…"

"Etcetera is one of its synonyms?" Bakura queried skeptically.

"No, dumb ass. I just can't think of any other synonyms." Malik snapped, crossing his arms in distinct irritation. Apparently he wasn't too pleased with the whole concept of Bakura's continuous shots at his intelligence…or, perhaps, lack thereof.

Bakura let out a snort, something that he seemed to be doing often, the past while. "Well, your lack of brain activity isn't my problem…"

"Shut up, Bakura."

"Why don't you make me, Tomb Keeper?"

"Kiss my ass, Tomb Robber."

Malfoy cut them off, his inquisitiveness pushing his question forward. "Might I ask…what is with those nicknames? I mean, Tomb Keeper? Tomb Robber…? I applaud the both of you for originality, but does either name have a point?"

The two Bearers exchanged amused glances.

Malik was the one to respond. "Maybe if you give us more reason to trust you, we'll tell you one day."

"Like when?"

"Like after His-Snakiness dies." Bakura supplemented, a bitter, hateful edge entering his tone of voice. His eyes darkened at least a shade, and his long bangs fell over his eyes, shadowing most of his face.

Malfoy frowned, "But that would be pointless. You two will be up and out of the country as soon as you possibly can, right?"

"We have some things to attend to, before we plan our leave." Malik explained enigmatically.

Malfoy sighed slightly, knowing where the conversation was headed. The threesome fell into silence for a moment, all of them thinking upon some kind of terrible deed they'd need to carry out leading up to or after Voldemort's life ended.

Still, the thought that all three of them were thinking was: I hope it's soon.

Malik and Bakura wanted freedom, but most of all, they wanted to save Ryou's father. Malfoy simply wanted the freedom to be his own person, not continue in the blind path of acting as his father's shadow. He no longer wished for that lifestyle, and he wanted the chance to survive outside of the Death Eaters and Voldemort for the first time in his life.

But all three of them, unfortunately, knew that would not be happening soon.

The silence was fairly tense for the next few moments. But it lightened, however, when Malfoy caught a glimpse of the very concerning expression on the Tomb Robber's face.

"What are you thinking about, Tomb Robber?" Malik queried, teasing Malfoy with the use of Bakura's 'nickname'.

Bakura, obviously having thought of something, due to the look on his face, sprang up into a sitting position. He grinned maniacally at the poor, young blonde boy who was obviously about to fall victim to one of Bakura's horrendous ideas.

"Say, Malfoy. How conditioned are you in the art of troublemaking?"

Malfoy threw the spirit a very, very wary look. He rubbed his hands together nervously, no longer laid back enough to lean on his palms, "Erm…what kind of trouble are we talking about here?"

"The kind that gets kids in trouble with teachers." The spirit explained, exchanging an evilly pleased look with Malik, who was obviously liking where Bakura's mind was going.

"No…not really. Why?" Malfoy asked, now almost sweating from worry as to what kind of plan the two nutters before him were cooking up.

Malik's grin was disturbing, but Bakura's grin was completely feral. The Spirit of the Millennium Ring's eyes narrowed in crazy pleasure, "Time for a crash course."

* * *

A snake slithered along the floor, its scales hitting the light just right; so that it appeared that each little part of its body was dancing. The reptile moved all too silently, almost unnaturally so, for such a large creature.

The corridors and doorways passed as it made its way towards its destination. A few cloaked men and women walked past, bowing ever so slightly to acknowledge its presence. It was practically royalty, after all, with its closeness to their Lord.

The ever present dripping sound of the condensation inside the corridor rang throughout; the only sound provided after the footsteps of humans had disappeared.

"_Nagini…"_

The snake perked up at the sound of its master's voice. It let out a hiss of answer and quickened its pace down the hallway. The door was open to the giant stone room at the end of the corridor, and the snake slid inside, unnoticed by all but its master.

"_So glad for you to have come," _He said in Parsletongue, to acknowledge her presence. He turned back to his right-hand henchman, Bellatrix Lestrange, who was playing childishly with an old doll she must've found on a raid.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort commanded, and the woman looked up from running her fingers through the doll's hair, "Severus' report concerns me. He says that our two pawns are behaving quite well, and have stirred up no trouble. In fact, they've done a rather good job of enforcing our rules." The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed at this.

The woman let out a small sound of thought, "Master, I do not understand why this is a problem. They are too afraid for the boy's father. They want him safe, before they do anything against us, correct?"

Voldemort's lips twitched upwards, pleased at having been reminded of their upper hand. "Indeed, Bellatrix, that would be what we'd assume, considering the circumstances. However, the Egyptian was the ring leader of an impressively well-organized crew of hunters, and therefore we should also assume that he does not take lightly to being under order as opposed to giving those orders. The Spirit should be kept an eye on too, for he has quite plainly expressed that he is an extremely powerful supernatural being, and will use those powers against us once he regains them fully."

"But Master," Bellatrix murmured, stroking the doll in her hands pensively, "The Spirit cares much for the boy," She giggled, "And will not let any harm come of him, therefore he would dare not oppose us in any way that could endanger the father's life."

Voldemort frowned at this, "True, but he may still dare to oppose us." He clasped his hands together, that eerie smile materializing onto his face once more, "Let us reign in the Egyptian boy. Put him on a leash. That way, the threat is diminished to only one."

"What shall I do, Master?" Bellatrix asked, squeezing the doll. She was eager to fulfill her Lord's wishes.

"Find Lucius," Voldemort commanded, "Tell him to go to Egypt and fetch young Malik Ishtar's sister and servant. They will prove to be all the leverage we need."

Bellatrix nodded, and swished her skirt so that she could take her leave, and find Lucius. That way, she could return and await her Master's next orders. She loved to please her Master, and she could tell she was pleasing him.

"Oh, and Bellatrix…?"

The woman turned around, her dark eyes sparkling with curiosity. The doll was cradled delicately in her arms. "Yes, Master?" She shifted the doll back into her hands.

Voldemort's lips pulled back over his teeth in a dark grimace of a smile. "Should we be informed of any such…opposition from our pawns…I would like you to do something for me."

"Anything for you, my Lord."

"Should they oppose us," Voldemort continued, his own bloody red eyes alight with disgusting, evil pleasure, "I would like you to deal with the father."

"Shall I kill him, my Lord?" Bellatrix queried, turning the doll over in her hands.

Voldemort licked his lips, "No. Should we find any opposition…I would like you to _destroy _him."

Bellatrix grinned, a girlish laugh playing on her lips. Her fingers found the doll's neck, and with one quick tug, she severed the toy's head from its body. The little doll fell to the floor, its head rolling slightly away from its tiny body. Voldemort appeared amused by this display.

Bellatrix's eyes were burning with manic glee, "Anything for you, my Master."

* * *

Ishizu Ishtar stared out of the window of her small house, watching the bustling streets below. She should have almost been amused, by the merchants harassing the poor tourists. After all, Egypt was a poor country, and her people sought out money whenever they could.

In fact, she was due to start taking tours down into the pyramids in a few hours. She should have been getting ready, getting her notes prepared, and other such things.

Instead of doing what she was supposed to be doing, Ishizu Ishtar was worrying very much about her brother. He'd gone off on a trip around different parts of Europe with Ryou, and had promised to send her letters, or at least call off and on.

But he wasn't doing either. She hadn't received any form of communication from her brother in nearly a month, and it had her very, very worried.

"Mistress Ishizu," Rishid murmured, poking his head into her room, "I'm leaving to the market, now. Is there anything else you would like added to the list?"

Ishizu turned, giving Rishid a small smile, "No, Rishid. But feel free to purchase anything you may like to add." She immediately moved back to the window, her eyes no longer friendly. Once again, her eyes were filled with anticipation, worry, and dread.

Rishid frowned and stepped into the room, bowing slightly towards her, "Mistress Ishizu, is this about Master Malik's lack of letters, or phone calls?"

Ishizu nodded, not responding to his words. She knew that Rishid could read her better than anyone, which was quite a feat, considering how hard she was to read.

"Mistress Ishizu, I'm sure that Master Malik is fine." Rishid soothed, folding his hands, "He likes to…do things his own way. He's probably just over-excited, and has forgotten to call."

"But an entire month…?" She whispered, her eyes cloudy with unshed tears. She worried so much for her little brother. All she wanted was a phone call, or even a letter. She just needed something to quell the churning in her stomach that told her that he was in danger.

Rishid opened his mouth to say something, but there was a short knock on the front door from downstairs. He turned towards the stairs, blinking slightly, "How odd. I wasn't aware that we were entertaining visitors today."

"Neither was I." Ishizu said, her eyes narrowing in slight suspicion. Rarely was her home visited by anyone except for invited guests. She too was unaware of anyone coming to pay them a visit.

"Shall I send them away, Mistress Ishizu?"

"Yes, please, Rishid." Ishizu requested, and sat down in the chair near her, clasping her hands together in concern. "Just be careful."

Rishid laughed, "What for, Mistress Ishizu? I'm sure it's just a salesperson, attempting to swindle us for money."

"Yes, that's probably all it is." She sounded more like she was trying to convince herself of that, than actually agreeing with him.

Rishid nodded and smiled, disappearing back through the hallway and down their narrow stairwell.

Ishizu returned her gaze to the flock of people below. She spotted a young man as he snatched food from a vendor, dashing through the crowd as to avoid being caught. The vendor shouted curses at the young man, raising his fists in a promise of revenge, but did not leave his stall. Leaving his stall unattended may have led to more pilfering of his goods.

Her ears detected Rishid opening the door, and greeting their guests. She also heard him pleasantly asking them to leave, his Mistress was not feeling well today.

She was not expecting there to be a very loud bang, and Rishid's cry of shock and pain. Ishizu leapt from the chair, and dashed to the top of the stairs, where she saw Rishid slumped at the bottom of. He struggled to look up at her, having heard her approach.

"Mistress, please…run…" He rasped out, warning her to escape.

The rest of it was a blur, as a horde of black-cloaked men adorning white skull-like masks swarmed into the stairwell. One spotted her, and shouted something in English that she did not catch.

Then the man pulled out a long, thin piece of wood, appearing to have been cut to a smooth perfection. She did not recognize the symbolism behind it. The man shouted out another deep word in a language that Ishizu didn't know, and the air suddenly pulsed with foreign magic.

She gasped, taken aback at this development. She tried to turn and run, perhaps escape out the window, and into the busy streets, where she could be safe, and come back to help Rishid once her attackers were gone.

How did they know about the Items? This was no coincidence, they knew she'd been a Bearer.

Her last thoughts were of Malik, wondering if he'd been attacked similarly, before her world was enveloped in harsh yellow light, and everything went black.

* * *

"I honestly don't think this is a very good idea." Draco Malfoy said, stepping lightly through the little tunnel, attempting to keep up with Malik and Bakura, whom were quite a ways ahead of him.

Malik turned his head back, slowing his pace to allow the young blonde to catch up, "Aw, what's the fun in that? Bad ideas always have the best outcome."

"Merlin, you two would get along so well with those stupid Weasley brothers…" The young British boy muttered, brushing some dirt off of the shoulder of his cloak.

"And why is that?"

Malfoy sniffed in a snooty fashion, "They were pranksters. Right fools, I say. Didn't know when to just keep it to themselves…honestly, total attention-seekers."

Malik grinned, amused. "They do sound like our type of guys. Maybe we should look them up sometime, get and give a few pointers."

"Like any of you need help with that."

Bakura grinned, "Probably not, but there's always room for improvement."

Malfoy, however, was not quite so amused. In fact, he was feeling quite irritated, more at himself than anything. What in the world had possessed him to actually follow the two foreigners on their little prank spree?

"You do realize that should this get out, _He _may construe it as treason and take advantage of their hostage." Malfoy pointed out.

Bakura went mildly rigid, "Well, should _He_ hurt any certain people, then _He_ will find himself at the wrong end of a very angry spirit."

"And is that supposed to scare him?" Malfoy jeered, obviously not thinking that Bakura could pose as a worthy adversary. "He's all-powerful. He's _unstoppable_. I don't know what Potter is thinking; trying to stop him, but it's _not going to happen_."

"Potter is…?"

"The 'Chosen One'," Malfoy spat, quite irate at having to explain the wonders of Harry Potter to another interested person.

Malik cocked an eyebrow, "Touchy, are we? What, do you have a crush on him, or something?"

Malfoy nearly choked, and immediately began sputtering, "What? Of course not! I like _girls_, you raging imbeciles!" He shouted.

Bakura leapt forwards, slamming a hand against Malfoy's mouth, before the boy could attempt to continue shouting. "Listen, you idiot, if you yell loud enough, you might get us in trouble. If you don't yell, we can pull this off with little problem, and still not get caught."

Malfoy glared viciously, but did not argue further.

Malik reached into his pocket, a mad grin on his face as he plucked out a small bag of pink. Bakura also grinned, "Well, well. Looks like someone has been practicing…"

"What in the world is that?" Malfoy queried, soft enough so that he wouldn't get in trouble for being too loud again.

"It's pink hair dye." Malik explained nonchalantly, shaking the plastic bag of pink liquid.

"Where did you get _pink _hair dye? You definitely didn't get that from me." Malfoy looked curious, interested, and slightly perturbed at the same time. Sometimes he wondered just how two individuals could be so absolutely weird.

Malik snickered under his breath, "You don't honestly think that first year in your House has _natural_ pink hair, do you? Seriously, it doesn't take an idiot to figure out that she's dying her hair."

"Well, I knew that. But still, you stole it from her? Why?" Malfoy was frustrated with the serious lack of answers he was receiving.

Both of the two Item Bearers grinned at each other conspiratorially, "You'll see." Bakura answered.

The next morning, Alecto Carrow would wake up with bubblegum pink hair. She would think it to be a student, and would send her two prefects to seek them out. Of course, Malik and Bakura never found the culprits, but solemnly swore that should they find them, they would be punished.

They had enjoyed their fun and games, of course. They had succeeded in enjoying themselves for the first time in quite a long time. But the fun and games were over. Terrible things were fast approaching, and they were standing upon the dawning of a darker era, when the war escalated.

Darkness was brewing, and death would follow soon after.

End of Chapter

Yes, I know, I suck. I apologize for the serious lack of updating, once more. It's a lot harder than you think to keep this going, and a whole wack of other stuff. On top of that, I'm trying to write a novel, which I hope will get published, once it's all done and edited a million times by me, and all of my lovely friendlies, who are freakishly grumpy about good grammar, and such things.

Yeah.

I hope you review, and that you can forgive me for sucking horrendously!


	12. Hook, Line, and Sinker

Lo and behold, No Strings Attached has reached (and surpassed) the one hundred reviews point! Whoo! That really made me feel good, so thank you, reviewers! It has fired me up for writing, which hopefully means that updates are going to come quicker. No promises though. Once summertime hits, and school season is done and over with, I'll hopefully be updating at least once every week.

Thanks again, to those who read and/or review! I couldn't say I'd be as excited about this without your enthusiasm helping me along!

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh and Harry Potter's ownage documents are currently being kept under my bed. Sh, the lawyers don't know yet. (But seriously, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter…yet….mwahahahaha!)

Chapter Twelve

Hook, Line, and Sinker

"Can you believe what happened to the Carrow witch?"

"Well, yeah. _Somebody_ was bound to do it. I mean, honestly. I'm a Slytherin, and even _I _can't stand the way she talks about muggles."

"I wonder if who did it is going to get caught."

"Well, for their sake, I hope not. Didn't you hear about how those prefects are on the prowl for the culprits? I wouldn't be surprised if students went missing, and even turned up _dead_!"

"They're scary, those two."

"Hey, Lily, did you hear? Thomas totally asked Cathy out!"

"Really…? I never thought he'd do it!"

"I know, it's so cute!"

"Hey, Patrick, bugger off, would you?"

"Give me back my tie, you idiot!"

Ryou stifled his yawn with his hand, leaning forwards at the table with his elbows propping him up. He was just so _tired_. Actually, that notion made him sort of glad that he'd been resting his spirit while his Yami ran rampant, because whatever happened, it made his body really tired.

_- Honestly, what did you two do last night? –_

He wasn't expecting an answer, and he didn't get one. Bakura had been fast asleep all morning. In fact, the peacefulness coming from his darkness worried Ryou further. Perhaps it was to do with the fact that he'd successfully played that prank on Alecto Carrow and had gotten away with it.

Malik had been on down time too. When Ryou woke up, sometime around seven-thirty, Malik was still sprawled across his bed. In fact, he'd been so conked out that Ryou had been totally unable to wake him.

So, he'd left Malik up in their room, and had plodded down to the Great Hall for an early morning breakfast. He'd picked out a few things, such as bacon and toast, but hadn't had much of an appetite to eat much more than that. He'd spent the majority of his time at the end of the Slytherin table sifting through his other half's memories of last night.

Bakura had left the memories open for him, so that Ryou could get up to speed. He was glad, now, that Draco Malfoy had expressed a distinct interest in rebelling against Voldemort along with them.

He was worried, though, at the knowledge that Malfoy would have to be extremely sneaky about it, or they would suffer consequences as much as he would.

Ryou did not need them to suffer any sort of consequences right now, not when his father was in danger. Not while his father was the captive of a maniacal, homicidal maniac that wanted to take over the magical world.

"Ooh, Summer, look! Isn't Rob just the hottest thing ever?"

"Oh my gosh, yes!"

Ryou sighed as the two girls closest to him gossiped and squealed over another Slytherin boy situated not too far away. He just didn't get how these kids could be in the midst of a very brutal, very horrible war and still have the gall to giggle and gossip like children.

He'd expected people to be more on edge. But then again, this was the Slytherin table. The majority of them figured that they were safe, simply because of the House they were in.

Ryou couldn't think of a stupider, more naïve idea to get in one's head. How could they assume safety so easily?

He had to think that the quiet, wary Gryffindors looked much more war time-esque. They, at least, looked fairly concerned for their lives, and looked like they would do something about it, given the chance.

It was nice to know that a few of these Hogwarts kids were actually taking this horrendous thing seriously. Briefly, Ryou wondered if he had ever been so immature as to think that the world was a happy, fluffy place.

The thought was banished almost instantly. Of course he hadn't. Bakura had made sure of that, and before Bakura, he'd always known that the world contained death, and wasn't as beautiful as children imagined it to be.

_I must be the absolute most dreadful person to be around_. Ryou mused to himself gravely, _I have such a pessimistic view on the world…it's a wonder that everyone thinks I'm naïve and innocent._

"_Che. Innocent? Maybe. Naïve? Not a chance."_

Ryou jumped slightly in his seat, outwardly surprised by the sudden intrusion in his thoughts. A few students glanced at him weirdly, but immediately went back to their business. After all, everyone knew that there was something wrong with those out-of-place prefects.

_- Goodness, Yami, did you have to do that without warning me? -_

"_I have just as much right to comment on your haphazard thoughts as much as anyone does if you were to speak them out loud. If you don't want me to hear such things, keep them to yourself."_

_- It's hard to do, when you share a mind with another consciousness, Yami. -_

"_Tch, you're just making excuses now."_

Ryou's lips twitched upwards in an amused smile, before he paused, and creased his brow. _– When did you wake up? – _He queried.

The spirit snorted, _"When your chronically depressed thoughts started floating into my soul room."_

Ryou's mouth fell open in an 'O' shape. His cheeks were dusted with red in embarrassment. _– I'm sorry for waking you. – _The young boy apologized sheepishly.

"_Whatever. Can't change it now."_

Ryou picked at a piece of toast, lifting it to his lips and taking a small bite. He chewed thoughtfully, feeling a little happier now that his darkness was up and talking to him.

"_Hey, where's Malik?"_

_- Asleep. Just what were you two up to, last night? -_

Bakura seemed a little confused by this, _"I left my memories of what happened open for you, Ryou. Didn't you bother to take a look and see?"_

_- Well, yes, - _He admitted, shrugging one shoulder in a natural gesture of nonchalance, _- But I wasn't exactly clued in to the whole escapade. -_

Had Bakura been maintaining a corporeal form, Ryou would have definitely seen a smug smirk on the spirit's face. _"That was for a reason, landlord."_

_- I gathered that. May I venture as to ask why? –_

Bakura was suddenly suspiciously withdrawn from the topic, _"It's nothing you should care about."_

_- Did you go any further than dying the Carrow sister's hair pink? – _Ryou inquired in total suspicion. At this point, he was totally positive that Bakura had done something completely out of line.

"_No…"_

Ryou definitely didn't like the tone of Bakura's 'voice'.

He didn't have another chance to touch on the matter, because Malik plopped down beside him quite abruptly. This time, Ryou very visibly jumped at his friend's sudden appearance.

Malik certainly looked like he'd just woken up. His hair was sticking up at all angles, and there were dark circles under his eyes. If one hadn't known that the young man had been sleeping away the morning, one would have assumed that he had pulled an all-nighter, or had an extremely restless night.

Ryou knew better; Malik slept like a log. He could sleep through nuclear warfare if he was subconsciously determined to.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" The Egyptian accused, slumping in his seat. A plate appeared before him, along with an empty flask and a set of cutlery. Magic was certainly interesting, in Britain.

Ryou cocked an eyebrow at the accusation, "Malik, do you honestly think that I didn't try to?"

"Touché."

"And thus, you continue with your expedition of a clichéd phrase." Ryou sighed out, watching as the other young man immediately began shoveling food onto his plate. For what he could tell, Malik looked like he could have been eating for seven or eight.

Bakura snickered at the joke. It was funny to the spirit, for some odd reason. Ryou didn't think it that hilarious.

"_You're far too logical, landlord."_

_- But it still wasn't funny. – _Ryou pointed out in a deadpan.

Malik paused through his gorging, and turned to Ryou curiously. "So, what's up?"

"Is that what you stopped your eating for?" Ryou queried, vaguely amused. Malik gave him an irritated look and Ryou shrugged slightly, "Perfectly fine, thank you. And you?"

"Tired," Malik answered automatically, before appearing in thought for a moment. His eyes slid down to his plate, "Hungry." He added.

Ryou let out a small chortle, and leaned forwards to snatch another piece of toast. "You know, maybe if we hadn't skipped dinner last night…"

"Yeah, yeah. I had more important places to be." Malik grumbled, obviously not wanting Ryou to mother him through chastisement.

Still, Ryou had to note the truth in his friend's words. By skipping dinner, they managed to save a young girl's life. Well, Malik and Bakura did. Ryou had watched from the sidelines. Ryou had known, also, the confusion that Bakura had felt over this girl's very odd character. After all, she hadn't expressed any kind of…wariness concerning them.

All the other students made a very direct point of avoiding the prefects at all costs. So what made this girl behave so oppositely to them? What made this girl so different?

Ryou recalled, through the memories, Bakura teasing Malik about an assumed infatuation with the young girl, who hadn't introduced herself to them. Ryou figured that Malik was on the right track, thinking about this girl. They had to consider her as a possible ally. Bakura wasn't looking close enough into this.

Ryou was only vaguely aware of the fact that students were beginning to stand up and mill out of the Great Hall. Malik was totally unaware, as he continued to work through his food in a semi-animalistic fashion.

"I'm worried." Malik suddenly said, and Ryou's head whipped around to stare at his friend with an extremely confused expression.

"What do you mean?"

The Egyptian boy let his hands fall from the cutlery to his lap, his eyes and face totally solemn, "Something feels…wrong. There's something wrong here. I just don't know what…and it's killing me." He balled his hands into fists, openly displaying his frustration.

Ryou couldn't figure out where Malik was going with this. "A gut feeling…?" Ryou supplied, trying to prod Malik into explaining further.

"Something like that," Malik admitted, a sardonic smile flashing across his face. It was gone in a split second, though. The worry had returned. "I don't know if you've ever had a really strong connection with anyone, but…but I usually can just tell when something bad has happened to my sister and Rishid."

"You think they're in trouble?" The colour drained from Ryou's face. Malik getting a forewarning feeling like that was not a good sign. Both of them were very well-versed in dark magic, which brushed their minds against the psychic wavelength.

They weren't psychics, though. They couldn't predict the future. Ryou could occasionally spell out messages or warnings of the future, with his tarot cards, but by no means was he a developed psychic. Malik's abilities weren't even as strong as that. He was only able to sense through gut feelings. Bakura joked that his stomach could see the future.

Malik was, unfortunately, rarely wrong when it came to things like this, however. The strength of his bond with his family was so strong, that he could definitely sense when something had gone wrong. Ryou just hoped that, for Malik's sake, the blonde's gut-feeling was incorrect.

"_Agreed…" _His yami murmured. It was the last word spoken between the two for the remainder of breakfast. They were both quite preoccupied with their very stormy thoughts. They needed to get their heads in order.

Once Malik had finally decided that his bottomless pit of a stomach was something along the lines of full, which Ryou decided was physically impossible considering how much that boy could put away, they discreetly left the Great Hall. Both of them were still mulling over Malik's very grave prediction.

"I need to send Ishizu a letter," Malik said suddenly, as his resolution. He looked a little relieved, now that he had his solution.

Ryou didn't want to dampen his friend's hopes, but he had to make a very realistic point. "Malik, how do you suppose we mail this letter? We can't leave school grounds, remember?"

"Well, how do these kids write to their families?" Malik shot back, undeterred.

Ryou opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. It was a very good point. It was also something that he did not know the answer to. Perhaps they were going to need to grab Draco at some point to find out.

"_Yeah, and it needs to be alone. We should abide by his game too, if we want to keep whatever inconspicuousness we have left._"

Ryou nodded in silent agreement. It was true. They would definitely have to find Draco, but they'd have to catch him alone.

"What did Bakura say?" Malik queried, having noticed Ryou's seemingly absent gesture. No one who didn't know them would see the meaning behind Ryou's odd nods, head shakes, or pensive expressions. Those who did know the Bearers sharing bodies with spirits, however, did understand what that body language meant.

Ryou smiled slightly at his friend, trying to give some kind of positive aura to what had been a seemingly dark and dreary breakfast. "He says that we need to catch Draco, but we need to find him alone, for subtlety's sake."

"Tell him that's the smartest thing he's said all day."

"_Tell Malik to fuck off."_

Ryou passed on neither comment, opting to stay out of the crossfire. Or, in this case, be the disarming force. He couldn't help what Bakura heard, because he couldn't block Bakura out from every rude comment Malik made, but he could neglect to pass on Bakura's retorts.

"_You're a real spoil sport, you know that?"_

_- No, I'm just trying to maintain a mature-mind frame, unlike you two. -_

"_Che, those were a lot of big words you just used."_

Ryou rolled his eyes, and didn't reply. Bakura was obviously in one of those moods where he thought that he was always right, and was annoying about it.

"So, where shall we patrol?" Malik asked Ryou, nudging the white haired boy ever-so-slightly. He cracked his neck slightly as he waited for Ryou's slightly delayed response, "The dungeons?"

Ryou frowned, "I thought we were going to find Draco Malfoy."

"Well, since neither of us have his class schedule memorized, and he was suspiciously absent from breakfast this morning, we have two options." The blonde held up two fingers to emphasize his point, "One: we wait until lunch is served, and pray that he's hungry enough to go, and we meet him there. Two: we wander aimlessly around the school, and pray that we run into him at some point. This way, we might actually find him before lunch."

"And you had to give that to me in detail, instead of just telling me flat out?" Ryou asked in his very best dead-pan voice, his eyelids half-lidded in slightly sardonic amusement.

"_It's Malik. He's not going to do anything the easy way. He much prefers to learn things in the stereotypical hard way. It's why I'm friends with him."_

_- Yami, that's terrible! -_

"_Well, his stupidity is amusing. So sue me."_

Ryou was about to respond to Bakura's very cheeky comment, but the sound of a voice that he did not first-handedly recognize shot through his mind link.

"Hello."

Both Malik and Ryou turned slowly, to acknowledge the visitor. Ryou realized, almost immediately, that it was that odd blonde girl that Malik and Bakura had saved the night before. She was dressed identically to the day prior, but her hair was pulled back with two little light green hair clips with cartoon bats on them. Her eyes were wide and mysterious, just like they had been before.

Ryou managed to choke out a surprised, "Hello," Back to her, in greeting. He didn't want to come off impolite to her, regardless of what tactics Bakura preferred to use with the students.

She smiled at them, "I just wanted to thank you both, for helping me. The Thestrals were quite glad to have the forest ridden of that pesky vampire."

None of the three listeners could believe the words that were coming out of this girl's mouth. Bakura was thinking along the lines of crazy, and Ryou couldn't say that he wasn't thinking similarly.

"It was nothing," Ryou assured her, trying to get around her very odd way of thanking them. Still, it was a thank you nonetheless, and his response was automatic. "You needed help."

Malik grunted in his own way of seconding the motion.

Her responding smile was very wide. Her eyes seemed to dance in naïve happiness, and she clasped her hands together, "Well then, I hope to see you both around." She said meaningfully. With that, the girl turned and skipped off, her shimmering, white-blonde hair bouncing with her jovial step.

"Wait…" Ryou mumbled, knowing that the effort was in vain, "You never told us your name…"

"Well, we didn't tell her ours, but chances are she still knows." Malik assumed thoughtfully, grinning slightly. "I don't know her well, but I like her."

"_Finally, Malik's going to get la-"_

_- Yami, he's not interested in her _that_ way. -_

"_Once again," _The spirit droned, waving his intangible finger in a circle, _"Spoil sport."_

Ryou was jolted, once again before he could comment, by Malik flicking him on the forehead. The white-haired boy let out a noise of protest, and slapped a hand to his head, glaring at Malik with unveiled animosity.

"Ooh, I'm scared," The Tomb Keeper commented, examining the beds of his fingernails in a pose of complete casualty and carefree attitude.

Ryou rolled his eyes, opting not to cause a ruckus, and grabbed Malik by the front of his shirt, "Let's just go find Draco."

"Okay, okay! Now let go of my shirt!"

* * *

She smiled as the white-haired boy dragged his friend off. They were definitely an interesting pair, those two. She wondered, suddenly, if they would have maybe become friends had the present circumstances of their acquaintanceship not existed. Her brow knitted. No. They would have reacted to her exactly the same as they did in the present situation. They obviously didn't trust easily. The guarded looks on their faces when she'd first appeared spoke that in monumental volumes.

A young man came up beside her, his books cradled unsteadily in his arms. His messy brown hair hung like a mop on the top of his head. He sniffled, his freckled nose moving up with the gesture. He was a gangly boy, who looked as awkward as he had when he was young.

"Luna, it's not a good idea." He said, sniffling again. This time, he pulled out a tissue and quickly blew his nose. "I just get a bad feeling from those two."

"Are you catching a cold, Neville? You sound a bit congested." Luna commented, blinking at him owlishly, waiting for a response. She absently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and shifted her books in her arms.

"Don't change the subject, Luna, please." He begged, his eyes wide and pleading. "Don't get into it with those new prefects. The DA is trying to get back up their feet with difficulty as is, and we can't do it at all with those prefects snooping around."

"They're not bad people, if that's what you're asking."

Neville looked a little ruffled at this, obviously eager and ready to protest, "Luna, you've encountered them for what, five seconds? You can't judge a person by five seconds."

"No," She admitted with a mysterious smile, "But you can with a gut feeling. They _did_ save my life during those five seconds, and I can just tell. Trust me."

"I think that's the problem. I do trust you." Neville muttered, and Luna's smile widened at his words. It was amusing when Neville got flustered like that.

"Promise me, Neville," Luna said with a slight sigh, her eyes changing from content to concerned, "That you'll accept them."

"I can't do that, Luna." Neville replied immediately. His fists were clenched. He bit his lip worriedly, before continuing. "Harry left _me_ in charge. I need to prove that I can do this. I'm responsible for all of you, Luna. I can't risk it…I can't risk anything, you know that."

Luna met his eyes evenly, those swirling, terrified brown eyes of his. They were the eyes of an awkward teenaged boy. Those eyes didn't belong to a leader. They belonged to a boy, not someone who was forced unwillingly into the place of a wizard in charge. Neville didn't deserve the guilt and pain that came with leading the DA. She pitied him greatly for it. He couldn't fill the shoes that Harry had left in front of him, and Neville knew it. That was why he was forsaking everything to lead the DA as best as he could, even in the wake of his grandmother's sudden disappearance. She'd left him a letter, saying she was just fine, but it still must have terrified him to know that she was on the run.

"Luna…" He groaned. Neville knew that look.

"Are you catching a cold, Neville?" She repeated, her face ghostly and blank. There wasn't a smile. Honestly, all of them had been pulling up fake smiles this year. What was there left in their world to truly smile about? Luna had no answer.

Neville exhaled deeply through his nose, his lips thin. "How much should I trust your gut feelings?"

"Not enough to make a bad move," Luna replied earnestly, her brow furrowing. "But I can't say that I don't wholeheartedly believe in them. I do."

"But…why? Why them? Why two followers of _Voldemort?_" Neville all but spat the name.

Luna tightened her grip on her books, "I don't know."

"Luna…"

What was she supposed to tell him? She didn't have any answer for him. She couldn't assure her friend in any way. All she could say was that he'd have to roll the dice, take the gamble, and pray that her gut feeling was right. It was a risky game to play in the world that they were in at the moment, but if they sat back and did nothing, they would lose this war for sure. They couldn't depend on anyone else, not even Harry.

She loved Harry as a dear friend, but Harry wasn't superman. He was only human, and humans made mistakes. Humans got themselves killed. It happened all the time, and it could happen to Harry. He could already be dead, for all they knew.

No, no matter now much she wanted to, they couldn't depend solely upon Harry. They couldn't depend on their corrupted Ministry, not ever. They also couldn't depend on the Order. The Order was losing their small war as it was.

They only had themselves to depend on, as selfish and unfair as that statement was. Well, war wasn't fair or kind.

"Just trust me." She whispered, nodding her head sharply once. "I can't ask anything else of our friendship, Neville."

Neville looked like he really wanted to argue. He looked like he wanted to provide some alternative. So, to avoid that, Luna continued.

"I don't think they want to follow Voldemort." Luna explained. She was treading on cautious ground. This would make or break her gamble with Neville. "The way they look at _Headmaster _Snape…it's not as if they respect him. It's not even like they think they're above him. They look like they genuinely hate him. And I doubt that any true followers of Voldemort would ever look at McGonagall like they want her to get them out of a bind. They're fishing for her trust. But, why?"

Neville's mouth opened and closed like a fish. He obviously had no rebuttal for this. His eyes darkened, and he looked away. To anyone else it would look like a definite 'no', but Luna knew him well enough to know that he was considering her words with grave seriousness.

"They just feel like bad people to me." He mumbled brokenly. Luna felt her stomach flutter. It was a definite sign that she was very close to winning him over.

"They might be bad people." Luna admitted, "They might have done very bad things. They might still do bad things. But they aren't as bad as Voldemort. They wouldn't have saved my life if that were true. If they shared any kind of ideals with Voldemort, they never would have saved me." She had to keep hammering that they'd saved her at him. It was the best card in her hand. "Even if they're bad people, we share a common enemy with them."

"Lu-"

"And besides," She interrupted with a girlish wink, "Bad people sometimes do good things."

"But Lu-"

"I mean, look at the Red-Tipped Himbersnaps." Luna continued, not letting him get a word in. "They hide shoes by instinct, and they returned that one pair of mine that they took. No one's all bad."

Neville ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. He closed his eyes, and briefly rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he reopened his eyes, they were defeated. "Do what you need to, Luna."

She smiled at him, that mysterious upward twitching of her lips causing Neville to let out a hollow chuckle of his own. He just couldn't be permanently serious with his dear friend Luna. She was far too light a personality.

"I'll be at the meeting tomorrow." She promised, and skipped back down the hall in the opposite direction.

Neville sighed dejectedly as he watched her leave. He shook his head, and tilted it back so that he was staring at the ceiling.

"Just what have I gotten us into?"

* * *

"There he is."

Ryou locked onto the slicked back blonde hair of Draco Malfoy as the young man was slinking down the hall. Alone. Well, that was certainly a bit of good luck that they hadn't been given in quite a long while.

"Draco!" Ryou called, and the young man stopped dead. He seemed to freeze, before turning around. The transformation was impressive. He straightened his back, and threw his nose in the air, a condescending sneer on the tip of his tongue. When he saw who his followers were, however, his eyes deepened, went darker, and he slumped back a bit. The sneering expression had vanished.

"It's you two." He said, apparently relieved. "Merlin, give me a heart attack, why don't you?"

Malik let out a small chuckle under his breath, "What, did you think that Headmaster-asshole figured you out and sent the cloaks after you?"

Malfoy set his jaw, glaring at Malik. He was evidently unimpressed. He crossed his arms. Malik and Ryou noticed that he was carrying no books.

"Hey, you're not planning to skip class, are you? You know, we drag rebels into the Carrows for that." Malik joked, punching Malfoy lightly on the arm.

"You haven't brought anyone in to the Carrows," Malfoy hissed, "And stop acting like we're best chums, okay? We're not. We're in a temporary alliance, as you so constantly remind me, what with your secret code words and other crap."

Malik whistled, "Jeez, someone's touchy about being left out of the loop."

"Of course I am!" Malfoy exploded, throwing his arms up, "I'm frustrated that, for the first time in my life, I'm the weak link. I'm the uninformed _git_ who can't be trusted, right?"

"Well, you definitely are a git," Malik answered with a cheeky grin.

Ryou elbowed the Egyptian, "Malik, please." He turned to Malfoy, "Look, we really need to talk to you. Please, can you be of some assistance?"

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up, "Are you bi-polar, or something?"

"I beg your pardon?" Ryou sputtered, stumbling slightly over his words. He couldn't find where he'd warranted such an accusation.

Malik obviously caught on, because he let out a small noise of realization, and scratched the back of his head. "Draco, this is Ryou. You know, the nice half that you hadn't met yet. Ryou, this is Malfoy, as you've observed."

"What?"

"I can sort through Bakura's memories." Ryou explained hastily, a sheepish blush staining his cheeks. He held a hand out, "It's a pleasure to meet you, finally."

Malfoy snorted slightly, and shook the white-haired boy's hand. "I think I prefer you better to the other one."

"Most people do." Ryou murmured, a slight smile on his face.

"_You're getting way too cheeky." _Bakura grumbled, _"I'm a' have to smack you."_

_- It's revenge for all the little cracks you make about _me_. – _Ryou replied, crossing his arms outwardly. The gesture seemed odd, to Malfoy, but he just brushed it off. He assumed that Ryou was conversing with his…other self.

"Anyways," Malik cut in loudly, clapping his hands together once, "We need to ask you a question."

"Yes, well, I know that. But I can't very well answer until you actually _ask_ the question." Malfoy sniffed, his lips twitching upwards in an impudent, close-lipped grin.

Malik seemed to appreciate the sarcastic humor, "How do you guys all send your letters? I need to send something to someone."

"Well, that's specific." Malfoy said acerbically, rolling his eyes. "We send them by owl. Write them on parchment, and attach them to an owl."

"What, and they just immediately know the destination?"

"No, you need to actually _tell _them. They listen. They rarely deliver a letter to the wrong place. Even the name of the receiver sometimes will suffice for them. It depends how far it's going."

"Egypt."

Malfoy made an 'o' expression, and let out a brisk, humorless laugh, "Yes, I think you need to tell the owl the address. But be careful," He warned, his expression darkening, "Letters are easily intercepted. Put it in Egyptian, or whatever."

"Yeah, I'll write her in Arabic," Malik replied absentmindedly, obviously thinking more of contacting his sister than heeding Malfoy's words, "Good idea."

"I'll make sure it's not English." Ryou assured Malfoy, who nodded back in satisfaction.

"Good, otherwise your receiver could get put in some serious danger."

That snapped Malik back to attention, and his brow puckered slightly, "So I just say the address out loud to the owl?" He queried.

"Yes."

Malik nodded, stepping back slightly to say that he wanted to leave, "Thanks. A lot." He put meaning behind the words, to show to Malfoy that he was quite thankful for the blonde boy's help.

Ryou and his comrade exchanged glances, and Malik's eyes were worried. Ryou nodded at him, understanding his feelings. He turned to the young man before them.

"We should go. This needs to be as soon as possible."

"Make sure they can't read it." Malfoy instructed in a cold, forceful voice, "Put it in Arabic, or whatever. It could be the difference in a dead friend or no."

Malik was down the hallway in an instant, with Ryou hot on his heels. Writing Ishizu was prime task. Ryou just prayed that she and Rishid had flown under the radar. With Voldemort's information, though, there was no knowing what could or had already happened. They just had to hope that it was okay for the time being…

And pray that their slim amount of luck hadn't run dry.

_Ishizu,_

_I'm in trouble. It's bad, really bad. I need you and Rishid to go underground…anywhere. Just get somewhere safe. These guys are unpredictable, and they seem to know almost everything about our lives. Every. Damn. Thing. You're not safe at home. So go somewhere…somewhere else._

_Do me a favor. Get a hold of Yugi. Get him and the Pharaoh on red alert. Tell them that we're in some real deep shit. They might be next. Tell Yugi to get his friends and grandpa underground too. No one is safe._

_Just tell the owl to bring the letter back 'home'. I'm pretty sure it'll get it. _

_Don't worry too much about me. Ryou, Bakura and I are managing with what we have. They've got Ryou's dad. Don't get caught. Stay on the move, if you have to._

_Please. Just listen to me, for once._

_Malik_

End of Chapter

Whoo, I suck at this updating thing. Ah, well. I got some nice tense stuff in here. Looks like it's getting interesting. Anyone got any ideas of what's happened to Ishizu and Rishid? (Evil mwhaha)

I hope that you liked it. Review please! Criticisms are welcome! Flames will be pointed at and laughed at!


	13. Testing Trust

I'm sure that I succeeded fairly well in throwing you guys for a loop with the whole Rishid and Ishizu situation. As is revealed in the beginning of this chapter, it was hardly the big fiasco I let you think it would be. Sorry about that. For plot purposes, I had to keep them away from Voldie's hands, and for characterization's sake, I think that Ishizu and Rishid would be quite adept at getting away from the Death Eaters.

REMINDER: Ishizu gave her necklace to the Pharaoh. In my crossover, I have taken author's liberty and assumed that Yugi granted the Rod back to Malik.

Disclaimer: Okay, so I need Malik, Bakura, Ryou, and Ron Weasley in my pants. Stat.

…………………………but I still don't own them……………………………

Chapter Thirteen

Testing Trust

_Malik,_

_Whatever you've done, you're quite obviously in far too deep to handle it yourself. I'm upset, brother, that you did not contact us before the situation reached the obviously dire point that it has reached now. _

_Rishid and I were attacked, not too long ago…perhaps only a few days or so ago. We were quite lucky to have escaped them. You're quite lucky that we are not pawns to be used against you now. An earlier warning may have been nice. We are moving, like you told us to. We're heading east through India. They will have trouble seeking us there._

_I have sent a letter by post to Yugi and the Pharaoh, also one to Kaiba. Yugi will surely explain all that he knows, for his letter has more information, to Kaiba and Yugi's friends. This, I hope will suffice to protect them where your mistakes have obviously failed. What on earth have you done?_

_I too, am to blame. I did not know to contact you earlier. I should have taken a better effort. For that, I apologize. Malik, be careful. Take the precautions that you have set forth for me. I will not be without my baby brother. _

_With love,_

_Ishizu_

Malik's hands fisted around the sides of the letter, and his eyes turned from violet to a seemingly stormy, hateful dark purple. "I knew it." He hissed, his teeth clenched.

Ryou touched his friend's shoulder, "What is it, Malik? Are they okay?"

"Fine, it seems. They're definitely on the run. They're going to India." Malik's eyes closed, and he shook with rage, "But they were attacked. Ishizu said that they were lucky to escape. If either of them is hurt, I swear that I'll-" He cut himself off, and the shaking ceased. His hands fell limp, and the letter fluttered to the floor.

Ryou smiled sadly, moving towards the window to bid the owl goodbye. It hooted at them, and flew back up to the Owlery. "At least they're safe."

"For now."

Ryou nodded sharply, "For now." He agreed, his eyes wandering to the big, gaping, glass-less window of the Owlery. It really was a fantastic view. He probably could have sat atop the ledge and stared at the sky and landscape for hours, had the ledge not been kindly covered in owl droppings and Ryou unfortunately unable to spare that kind of leisure time.

Malik ran a hand through his hair, and Ryou noticed the deep bags under his friend's eyes. In fact, Malik's entire form seemed to express the hardship that his familial worries had brought on. His face looked a little sallow, his cheeks a little sunken from evident lack of sleep. His typically wild blonde hair looked flat and unkempt in a way that wasn't the norm. He also slumped a bit. He didn't appear to be able to stand quite upright.

Ryou knew that he himself looked quite similar. He didn't remember the last real good night's sleep he'd had.

"Malik, we need to do something."

The blonde cocked an eyebrow, and in those tired eyes, a small spark of mischief flared, "Can you specify, or is that as far as you're planning to go?"

The word 'smartass' came to mind, but Ryou didn't voice the notion. Instead, he merely smiled slightly at his friend's slightly more uppity behavior, "I think that we need to go somewhere where we can relax for…at least a day. I know that this is a terrible time to be doing so, but think about it." When Malik didn't really react, Ryou took it as incentive to continue, "We're stronger when we're better rested. If our minds are clearer, we'll be able to work more efficiently. If we keep going as is…we're just letting them down."

"I guess so." Malik murmured, obviously deep in thought. He was fidgeting with the nail of his thumb in something that could have been considered a nervous habit. It was just Malik's way of filling silences that he couldn't fill with witty comments.

"Malik…"

Said Egyptian glanced up, and his haggard appearance seemed to shift a little, and he looked like he was almost a little sick. "Have you been…feeling the magic at all?"

"Is this a joke?" Ryou asked in a level voice. He knew that he was trying to up the mood a bit, but he was hardly in the mind frame for tolerating any bad cracks that his friend could come up with.

Malik shook his head, "I meant it literally."

"Can you access your Shadow Magic?" Ryou queried, a burst of intrigue and excitement welling up inside of his stomach. It was like having butterflies, almost-ecstatic.

The young man frowned, leaning flaccidly against the wall again, "No. It's weird…I can't explain it."

"Try to." Ryou requested.

"It's not that easy." Malik retorted in what was meant to be an annoyed tone that seemed more lethargic than anything. Their troubles were definitely beginning to take a toll. Even the students seemed to be noticing. Rumors had been spreading that the two prefects had angered their 'Lord', and were being punished for it. That was why they'd looked so bad the past couple of days.

Truthfully, it was just lack of sleep. It was amazing, in a not-so-good way, what lack of sleep could make you look like. It was also amazing to hear the stories that could, in turn, be brewed as a result of it.

Malik sighed again. He seemed to have been making a habit of that lately. Ryou couldn't object to it. He'd been doing the same thing. "I've…been able to feel the magic around the school lately. It's weird, because it only started the night that we sent the letter. That's why I haven't been sleeping."

"That makes two of us." Ryou all but whispered. He hadn't even thought to have pinned his sudden unexplained awareness of everything as him keying onto the magic inside Hogwarts. Suddenly, Ryou was feeling very silly. "I didn't even realize…"

"What? That you were feeling the magic?"

"You know, I don't like the way you keep wording that." Ryou commented offhandedly, "It sounds like you're preparing to make it an innuendo."

"I'm too tired to make sexual jokes at you. Besides, Ryou, most of them go right over your head."

Ryou resisted the urge, with some difficulty, to say 'touché', just because he knew it would annoy the blonde across from him.

"On a more serious note," Malik said, trying to amend his hand in off-tracking their conversation, "you _have_ been sensing it, right? The pull of the modern magic? It's like it's trying to physically repel us."

Ryou nodded slowly, letting Malik's words sink in. "Yes, I've been sensing it. I just didn't clue in. I'm sorry." Sometimes, Ryou realized, Malik had some brilliant moments of insight. It was unfortunate that he was rarely accredited for his obviously above-average intelligence. His intellectuality was often ignored, due to Malik's typical rambunctious and non-serious personality.

"_Hey, I do accredit him. It's just rarely a problem. He really doesn't deserve praise very often."_

_- Yami! -_

"_Come on! It's not like I don't give it when it's due."_

_- You don't. –_

"_Touché."_

_- Oh, please, not you too. -_

"_You were resisting the urge to say it not a minute ago. You've got to admit, landlord, it's a catchy word."_

Ryou rolled his eyes, not really having a response for that. If he retorted, he knew that he'd just be digging a bigger hole for himself. Bakura had him pinned, and Ryou had, honestly, been a little snippier than necessary.

Still, he was in a foul enough mood to make a point of being too stubborn to admit his wrongfulness in the small matter.

He knew that he'd have to apologize to his darkness when he was in slightly better sorts. At least, then, he would sound convincing as opposed to bratty.

Bakura seemed to be emitting a little wave of self-satisfaction, after having heard Ryou's little inner struggle between his bad mood and his ethics. Ryou very badly wanted to tell his darkness to 'shut up', but he knew that Bakura didn't deserve that kind of verbal attack. The lack of sleep had also had taken quite a toll on the spirit's nerves. They were all in bad mental shape.

Ryou's Ring flashed, and suddenly the spiritual projection of Bakura appeared. The see-through, ghost-like form was always something that was tough to get used to. Especially when you noticed the fact that he actually looked quite a bit like a hardened, slightly older Ryou.

It was just odd to see two of someone, and the whole doppelganger effect worked even better when one of them was translucent.

"Hey, Bakura," Malik greeted, "What's up?"

"_The bird infested ceiling. Can't you two find better places to have your secret meetings?"_

"I don't remember you protesting to this place." Ryou shot back, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. "Besides," he continued, "Malik and I needed to come up here, if you do recall."

"_The bird did come to the damn window. It was _your_ choice for us to trudge up here for Malik to read it."_

"Safety precautions," Malik explained shortly, "And it was _my_ idea, for exactly that reason. Further, you didn't even do any trudging, so stop complaining."

The spirit snickered behind a hand, obviously taking some kind of sick enjoyment in acting the way that he was.

Malik seemed to suddenly stop, and appraise the Spirit of the Ring, "Hey, Bakura, when did you start to become sort of attuned to the magic here?"

"_Aw, no double-meaning almost-innuendo? I'm hurt."_

"Answer the damn question."

Bakura's expression shifted from chuff with himself to serious in the blink of an eye. _"It started a few days before you two began to notice it. I just figured that I'm more in sync with other magic because I'm essentially made of magic myself."_

Malik seemed to consider this, and was about to ask another question, but Ryou stepped in first.

"Why didn't you tell us?" He queried, appearing a little hurt.

The spirit didn't look horrified, but he did look a little uncomfortable, _"It wasn't something that needed to be addressed, at the time." _He said in a gruff, no-nonsense tone of voice. It was his way of leaving no room for elaboration.

Ryou looked away.

"_Ryou…"_

He narrowed his eyes, refusing to look back at the spirit. He was probably being a little childish, but it was his way of showing Bakura that he was upset with his yami withholding important information from him.

Malik frowned, inching forwards to make his presence known. "Okay you two, I think we should go take our little jaunt now. The tension is suffocating me." There it was again: that spark of brash humor that seemed to make Malik appear to be acting more like normal. It was nice for Ryou to see.

_- I'm sorry for snapping at you. – _Ryou told his other half, regret heavy in his voice. He really, truly did feel bad.

"_You didn't snap." _Bakura said, out loud, so that Malik could hear, _"None of us are ourselves. Let's just go somewhere."_

Bakura instantly vanished back into the Millennium Ring, and like usual, and odd warmth spread into Ryou when the spirit returned to him. The warmth had originated from the Ring, and slithered back from his body to the same place.

Malik gave Ryou a little nod, and turned towards the steps leading back to the main building of the castle. They had to get out of the building, yes, but neither one of them was up to scaling walls. Malik's wrist had only just begun to heal. He'd removed it from its cast at the beginning of the week. Ryou didn't really think that the Egyptian was too keen on re-injuring it, considering how much he'd complained about the injury in the first place.

They'd just neared the base of the tower's stairs when a voice halted their progress towards the great outdoors.

"Excuse me...?"

Both of them knew the voice, even though they'd only heard it enough times to count on their fingers, and turned around slowly to greet their visitor. As expected, the young blonde girl who had been saved by Malik and Bakura and had later accosted Malik and Ryou in the hallway was blocking the entrance to the main school building. She wasn't carrying any books this time, but she did have three peculiarly coloured flowers in her one hand.

Ryou, ever the gentleman, spoke up first, "Hello, miss. What can we do for you?"

"_Way to keep up the tough guy act."_

Bakura was ignored.

"I'm just here to say hello," She greeted, smiling widely at them. Using the hand that wasn't holding the flowers, she twirled a strand of her semi-blonde, almost stark-white hair absentmindedly. "Well, not entirely." She admitted finally, no real explanation given for that. She just smiled again, that mysterious expression on her face.

She was an enigma, that one.

"What's your name?" Malik blurted out, and Ryou shot him a surprised look.

"_It's pissing me off. It's been two meetings and she still hasn't properly introduced herself. Can't kill a guy for being curious."_

"_Yes, but I can kill a guy who opens up unnecessary mind links without my permission."_

_- Yami, please…! -_

She stopped twirling her hair, and blinked owlishly at them. "Oh dear. Haven't I introduced myself to you yet?"

"No."

Ryou shot Malik another warning glance, which was shrugged off and essentially disregarded.

At least, the girl had the good grace to look a little sheepish, "I'm Luna Lovegood. The students like to call me Loony. I'd prefer if you didn't call me that, though…" She tapped her lip, as if making sure that she'd covered everything.

Ryou appeared a little shocked at the cruel nickname that she'd obviously become slightly accustomed to. Malik looked torn between amusement and mild surprise.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce yourselves?" From anyone else, the words would have sounded aggressive. Coming out of Luna's mouth, however, they sounded simply curious. It was apparent that this girl didn't use much assertiveness in her dialogue. Perhaps she made up for that by being so enigmatic.

"Oh!" Ryou exclaimed, feeling rather silly having forgotten to introduce himself also, "I'm Ryou."

"Malik." The Egyptian greeted brusquely, crossing his arms in a semi-daunting way. It obviously had little to no affect on Luna, who didn't appear to notice the body language.

"Well, Ryou and Malik, I think that we should plan to go back to the Forest sometime soon. The Thestrals would really quite like to thank you for saving them." Her smile seemed to melt suddenly, as if she'd come to a realization. "But I was under the impression that you went by the name Bakura."

The question had been directed at Ryou specifically, who went rigid for a fraction of a second. Under instruction from Bakura, he schooled his features into a façade of embarrassment, "It's just a…nickname. Sometimes Malik uses it when he's annoyed with me."

"He didn't seem all that annoyed." Luna observed. Ryou figured that he'd have to argue his view, but she merely let out a small chuckle, and shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly. "I suppose that I wouldn't know, though. Perhaps you two were in an argument before you saved me."

Ryou let out a breath of relief, but Luna continued, unawares, "You don't really seem the type, though." She mused, a thoughtful expression washing onto her face, "To kill, I mean. I wouldn't quite expect it from someone as shy as you. Do you have a multiple-personality disorder?"

The assumption was far too close for comfort. Ryou, unable to think of any excuse on the spot, went silent. Malik cut in, to save his friend's hide.

"Neither of us are quite what we appear." It was meant to be mysterious, but it came out a little threatening, "Don't underestimate Ryou because he acts shy. He'll kill if he has to. That nature isn't exactly lost on him."

"_Lies!"_

"Apparently not." She agreed with Malik, accepting the explanation. Both Malik and Ryou sagged in complete and total relief, glad that she'd bought Malik's rationalization of Ryou's peculiar behavior.

"_How does she buy that?" _The spirit guffawed, obvious shock on his face. It was mockery, however. He was just trying to bug Ryou.

_- Oh, hush… -_

"_Don't try to silence me, foolish mortal!"_

_- …you're hyperactive, aren't you? -_

The accusation seemed to sober the spirit up a bit, _"I'm an ancient thief. We don't get 'hyper'. It just doesn't happen."_

_- Whatever you say. -_

Luna suddenly clapped her hands together, miraculously avoiding wrecking her flowers, "Oh! Would you two like to come flower picking with me?"

The question was so totally unexpected that Malik and Ryou nearly fell over in surprise. On top of that, it was a rare occasion when someone asked the menacing prefects to go flower picking.

"Er…what?" Ryou couldn't manage anything else out. He didn't want to burst into hysterics, that would be rude, but he wasn't able to succeed in totally managing his grin either. It was one of those big, goofy, disbelieving grins.

Malik just blinked, his mouth falling open.

"I need to…speak with you both…about some things." Luna explained slowly, emphasizing every word to get the message across. She sounded quite business-like, and would have appeared so too if she hadn't still been wearing that smile that said she wasn't 'all there'. "It's really quite important, but I don't think the student body needs to be made aware of it."

The two young men exchanged glances. What possibly could this girl want with them? It was obvious that she had some important information to share with them, but the question was: why? Why would she share _important_ information with them? That was unfathomable. They had to be the last people, Headmaster Snape and the Carrows aside, that a student would trust with _anything._

"Walk with me," She suggested in an airy tone, gesturing for them to tag along as she took a few steps out past the entrance to the tower.

Something about the way that she spoke, and the look in her eyes made them follow her. Perhaps it was the smallest hint of panic and desperation that lurked behind those misty, naïve eyes. Perhaps it was the calmness in the way that she moved, the way that she seemed to be able to shut out all that was around her and focus on simply one thing.

Whatever it was, they followed her. They let Luna Lovegood lead them through the school buildings, taking winding corridors and back ways that led in confusing directions that completely threw both Bearers totally off course. Had they not been following her, and had she not known exactly where she was going, they'd have deemed themselves lost.

She stopped at a large wooden door, which she pushed open with what appeared to be very little force. She dared a smile back at them, and indicated for them to come outside with her.

It was a part of the school that Malik, Ryou, nor Bakura recalled seeing. It was just to the right of the back area, where Hagrid's hut sat at the foot of the hill. This hill, however, had a much less steep incline, and was dotted with many multi-coloured flowers.

"We'll go farther, of course." Luna told them, and in one swift movement she knelt down, swiped a flower up, and righted herself, adding the violet coloured plant to her tiny bouquet-in-the-making.

"Is this to prevent eavesdropping?" Ryou queried mildly, his eyes scanning the scattered patches of flowers running down the slope.

Luna nodded, not bothering to beat around the bush, "We'll be discussing important information. What I'm going to tell you could make the difference in winning this war."

"And how can something student-created ever hope to end a war?" Malik stepped into the conversation, his eyes sharply focused on Luna with an intensity that he saved for when he was trying to get a point across. "We've seen Voldemort. He's not just some criminal. This bastard is _the _criminal. He's past the point of imprisonment for life. You'll have to kill this guy to end the war."

For two people who were assumed to be strict followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Luna did not appear caught off-guard by Malik's harsh words. It was suddenly apparent that she knew quite well that they were under Voldemort's power against their will.

"_Why doesn't this child even look remotely surprised?" _Bakura demanded, fairly caught off-guard by Malik's outburst.

Ryou was too busy staring in total shock at Malik, who looked a little bit shocked himself.

Luna giggled at their surprise, "These flowers aren't just pretty." She explained, waving a hand to indicate the colourful plants around them, "Their pollen is used in _Veritaserum_, a potion that forces the drinker to speak the truth. I wanted to pick some of them."

"To make us reveal our allegiances?" Bakura asked, having made a snap decision and took over Ryou's body for the time being.

"_Oh, wonderful. Now she's going to think you're bi-polar."_ Malik jeered, having reopened a temporary mind link so that they could deliberate without her hearing them.

Luna smiled at Bakura's accusation, her eyes alight with amusement, "Well, Ryou, I can't say that wasn't entirely what I wanted to do." She picked another flower, this time inhaling deeply at its intoxicating aroma. This one, apparently, was not one of the truth-telling flowers.

"And the rest of your scheme…?" Malik pressed, trying to urge her into elaborating.

"They're pretty."

It was one of those times where a person just wanted to start banging their head against the wall out of frustration. Could this girl not take anything seriously? Bakura had to admit, though, that she got points for being annoyingly vague about pretty much everything.

Malik guffawed at the girl's answer, "Seriously? That's it? They're _pretty_?" He obviously didn't really have much of a response for that, other than raw incredulity.

"Why else would I want to pick flowers?"

"Perhaps for an elaborate scheme to reveal our allegiances, use that information to forcefully pit us against Voldemort, and then give us no choice but to fight on your side." Bakura answered in a cold, unfeeling tone. Malik gave his comrade a warning glance. The spirit wasn't being careful enough about covering the personality differences between himself and Ryou.

_- Yami, don't be so cruel. She thinks she's talking to me. -_

Bakura didn't respond, which only worried Ryou. When the young boy tried to push himself into Bakura's thoughts to see what he was doing, he was thrust forcefully backwards, blocked by a powerful mind barrier that the spirit had obviously thrown up.

_- W-what are you doing? Yami, answer me! - _

There was no answer provided.

On the outside, Luna shook her head in reply to Bakura's harsh words, "No, Ryou. That's most definitely not what I wanted to do. In fact, I have a proposition for the both of you."

"Continue." Bakura ordered, and Malik balled his hands into fists, fully prepared to take Bakura elsewhere and proceed to beat the crap out of him for acting so stupidly.

"We have a…group." Luna explained in a happy, carefree tone, "We call ourselves the DA." Neither of the foreigners had the foggiest idea what that could possibly be an acronym for, or if it even was one, but they listened nonetheless, "We're the only group within the school that secretly is fighting against the Headmaster, and through him, fighting Voldemort. If there is a war, we will be the fighters."

"And you believe that you can do this?"

She nodded, appearing to be quite sure of herself. "We have Harry on our side, after all."

Once again, Harry Potter came up in conversations. Just who was this boy? Draco had ranted about him a while back, something about Harry being some kind of proclaimed savior of the wizarding world.

"We'd like for you to join us." Luna said hopefully, her eyes wide and mistily excited, "We could help you, if you need it, and in turn, you could help us."

Bakura snorted, which seemed to take Luna aback slightly. "For a girl who acts like she's barely aware of what's going on around her, you're a surprisingly good salesperson." _Nice try, but not quite._ "However, we need to look out for ourselves. We may have a common enemy, but we certainly have entirely different goals. We have no ties to this world. If we can succeed with what we need to do, we will leave your people to their own devices, war ended or not." His expression was not mocking. No, it was cruel and calculating, like a monster. "I have little-to-no vested interest in the wizarding world, and in truth, I'll be glad to be rid of it as soon as is possible for us."

Malik looked about ready to murder Bakura. The outburst was unnecessary, and could have just pissed off a lot of people.

Ryou was shaken and completely horrified. How could his yami do this? Didn't he realize the good that could come out of this girl's offer?

Luna, unlike the two others, didn't appear to be too shocked by the spirit's harsh words. In fact, a slow smile spread across her face. "Are those your feelings on our war?" She queried in a light, cheerful tone.

"Yes." Bakura took an intimidating step towards her. She must have suddenly been made aware that he was quite a bit taller than her, because she took a precautionary step back. Either way, the smile didn't leave her face. Bakura continued, "Now, tell me, can you trust a person who would throw you under the bus for their own purposes?"

"I would." Luna answered without hesitation, surprising Bakura. "I don't believe that you would 'throw us under the bus.' At least, not without a very good reason."

"You're wrong." The spirit warned.

- _Yami, why are you doing this? – _Ryou cried out from inside his soul room, banging his fists violently against the barrier blocking him from the mind link with his other half.

Luna's eyes suddenly snapped towards the school, where Alecto Carrow was passing by the field. The woman seemed to notice the two prefects, but seeing as Bakura was looming over Luna in a very menacing fashion, she deemed it unimportant.

"I have a feeling." Luna said in a quiet, almost impossible-to-hear tone, "That you'll want to find us again. I'm afraid that our time has been cut short. Professor Carrow won't be very pleasant if she deems you suspicious."

"No, she won't be." Malik agreed, his teeth clenched. He was definitely going to give Bakura a rap for what he'd done.

"Here." Luna offered to Bakura, handing one of the original flowers she'd had to the spirit. Her eyes danced with mirth as he accepted it with extreme astonishment, "When you find him, say 'Dumbledore's Army'.

"Find who?" Malik wondered aloud. Luna didn't answer, though. She'd already turned tail and was walking hunch-backed towards the school.

Like she'd been chastised, Ryou realized. It was for Alecto Carrow's benefit. She was diverting any kind of suspision away from them. They watched her disappear into the school. The Carrow witch was gone also, at that point.

"You idiot." Malik hissed, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Bakura smiled coldly at the Egyptian, "No, Malik."

"Yes, you _are _an idiot." Malik snapped. He was extremely mad at the spirit, and the rage was clear as day. "Don't you get that you might've just screwed us over completely? She'll tell her friends that we're just as evil as expected, and then we'll be _fucked_ for allies, thanks to you!"

Bakura didn't respond.

"Answer me, damn it!" Malik shouted, grabbing Bakura's shoulders with more force than necessary. He shook him a couple times just to make a point.

"I did what was necessary." The spirit replied in a monotone, his eyes half-lidded in what appeared to be boredom. He didn't make a move to remove Malik from his person.

Ryou was so angry that he was completely silent on the issue.

Malik's face twisted in unadulterated rage, and he pulled back and punched Bakura in the face. The Spirit of the Ring's head snapped to the side from the impact, and there was a dark red mark already where Malik's fist had connected with the spirit's face.

"You shouldn't have done that," Bakura said quietly, spitting some blood from his mouth where he must've bitten his cheek. Before Malik had realized what had happened, Bakura used his freed hand to grab hold of the front of Malik's shirt.

He pulled the blonde towards him forcefully, and used the momentum to spin around and literally throw Malik to the ground. He was on top of the young man in an instant, wrestling him into immobility, pinning his arms above his head with one arm and sitting on his stomach. His other arm went to Malik's throat, not tightly, but with enough pressure to assure that the Egyptian would not struggle.

"Listen to me, you witless fool." Bakura snarled, his face barely inches from Malik's, "What I did was absolutely necessary. We have to ascertain immediately that we are not loyal to either side. The fact that we are going to help these children's side of the war is only due to convenience for _us._"

"I know that." Malik spat, turning his head away in a show of stubbornness.

Bakura barked out a laugh, "Apparently not, or you would have already concluded why I said what I said." There was a vicious, hateful grin on his face, one that sent shivers up Malik's spine. This was the damning smile of the legendary King of Thieves. This was the smile that often meant death for those on the receiving end of it.

Suddenly, Malik felt a little coil of fear.

The fear was gone in an instant, though. Malik's eyes widened with shock as he realized what Bakura had meant in what he'd said and done to Luna.

"You don't want them to start depending on us." Malik choked out, realization spreading across his face. How could he have not figured that out?

"Exactly." Bakura said, removing his hand from Malik's throat. "If they learn of our magic, and if we gain it back in time to be of a strong fighting aid, we do not want them to assume that we will fight their battles _for_ them. They have to know that we will fight our battles, and they will fight theirs."

"Oh."

The spirit scoffed, "'Oh', indeed. Don't jump to conclusions next time, foolish child." Bakura was definitely a little sour about getting punched in the face.

_- Why didn't you tell us? - _Ryou asked quietly.

Bakura seemed to consider this for a moment, before grinning madly. _"Getting you two all riled up is more fun."_

_- Yami! -_

"So," Malik interrupted, not realizing that he'd halted a small argument between the two white-haired males, "What's with the flower?"

Bakura glanced down at the plant that he'd dropped when he'd pinned Malik down. "I'm not entirely sure." He picked it up, rolling the pretty little flower over in his hand.

"Wait. Do that again." Malik commanded, stepping closer to the spirit.

"What?"

"Spin it around again."

Bakura did so, and cocked an eyebrow as Malik grinned widely.

"What's the appeal?" Bakura queried in a mocking tone, not really sure whether or not Malik had completely lost his mind. Perhaps throwing him around hadn't been a great idea.

Malik snatched the flower, the grin still plastered on his face, "How clever." He mused, flipping the flower upside down so that the stem pointed upwards. "She wrote a message on the underside of the petals." He explained.

"How'd she manage that?" Bakura asked, examining the words on the bottom, written in a circular message across all of the flower's petals' undersides.

Malik blinked, reading the message for himself, "That's not the real question here."

"So, what is?"

"Just who the hell is Neville Longbottom?"

End of Chapter

Yeah, that's right people. This update came in record time. And it's fairly decent-sized, too! Bonus! (Snickers) Anyways, I hope that you enjoyed it.

Remember to review!


	14. When Trouble is Looming

Kyaa! Thank you all so much for the loverly reviews last chapter! I feel so flattered. I really don't deserve the compliments, really.

NOTE TO READERS: I'm toying with the concept of splitting this into two books, thereby removing the need for some major time skip. Leave in your review how you feel about that.

NOW! (Smirks) Onto business…

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah. No matter how many times you hold me with a gun to my head, I'm never going to figure out that it's impossible to get the ownage papers for Yu-Gi-Oh and/or Harry Potter.

And I know that I don't own them, okay! (Cries)

Chapter Fourteen

When Trouble is Looming

"Okay, so we've got a plan."

"And what's that?"

Malik slammed the noticeably blank piece of paper, originally thought to be his grand 'plan', onto the coffee table of their little room. "We need to think of a plan!" He declared enthusiastically.

Bakura had to remember that Malik plus caffeine equaled headache and unnecessary problems. "And is that going to need planning too?" He deadpanned, his cheek resting against his palm. Malik had been like that all day, and Bakura was beginning to be bored of it.

"Gah!" Malik shouted, whirling to face Bakura. The mug of coffee that he'd been brandishing in his left hand jolted slightly, and the brown, murky liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim. "Bring Ryou out! He'll support me!"

"No he won't." The spirit countered, rolling his eyes, "And besides, he's sleeping. He stayed up all night reading like the idiot he is, and now I'm the only rested mind between the two of us."

"Isn't your body tired?"

The question was totally stupid, but at least Malik appeared to have calmed down slightly. The young Egyptian male had pulled an all-nighter along with Ryou, and was only so active due to his unhealthy intake of caffeine.

Bakura sighed, leaning back in the comfortable chair he'd situated himself in. "Yes, but it's manageable." He turned a page of his book.

"Touché." Malik retorted.

The white-haired male's eye twitched, "Okay, it didn't even make _sense_ that time."

"So?"

"So, shut up." Bakura snapped, exhaling deeply to avoid leaping up and strangling Malik until the fool stopped breathing. Ryou probably wouldn't be very happy to find Malik had been murdered and stuffed into a closet to avoid arousing outside suspicion. Another page was turned.

Malik took the spirit's advice, and plopped down into a chair. Setting his coffee down onto the little table in front of him, he drew a book from the small pile that Ryou had brought back from the library the previous night. It was leather-bound, like a journal, almost. A small, gold-leaf dragon was stamped on the front. The title _Ancient Myths and Mysteries_ was printed in the same golden colour as the dragon picture.

He opened it up to the first page, not really expecting anything interesting. He really could care less about the wizarding world's folk tales, and he had no clue what this sudden reading escapade had to do with anything at all. The young man blew out a weary sigh, rolling his neck to get a small kink out of it.

"What does this have to do with finding that Neville Longbottom kid?" Malik asked the white-haired male across from him. Bakura turned another page of his book, eyes indicating that he was reading.

Malik pursed his lips impatiently, "Well…?" He demanded.

Bakura turned another page.

"Jeez, are you speed-reading or something?" Malik suddenly queried, cocking a brow at the pace in which Bakura was making his way through the text.

"Or something," The spirit responded in a deadpan voice, but his lips quirked up at his little crack. "We _should_ be finding Neville Longbottom," He continued, to answer Malik's question, "But we're not."

Malik took a sip of his coffee. The sudden need to help with the reading had sobered him in a surprising amount of time. He set the mug back down, spinning his finger around the rim of the cup a few times. He was unimpressed with Bakura's response, or lack thereof. "And the reason for that is…?"

"We don't know who 'Neville Longbottom' is." He said it as if it were plain as day. He also added that extra touch of condescending sneer to make Malik feel a little big stupid.

The Egyptian curled his lip in response to that, "Well, then. Shouldn't we be finding that out?"

Now it was a match of wits. It was like a small battle between the two of them. Whoever could outwit the other won, and the loser had to submit to subconscious defeat and the winner's superiority.

"You can if you want to."

"No," Malik argued in a heated tone, "We both should be doing that. This is ridiculous!"

"Calm down."

"Stop slacking."

One sleek, white eyebrow arched, "You're one to talk about slacking. Weren't you just on happy crack, or whatever?"

"What the hell is happy crack?"

Bakura smirked, a broad, delighted evil grin that made Malik double-take. His mind blurred through the conversation that had just taken place, and his face became sour.

"Damn." He hissed. Bakura had won. He'd managed to off-track Malik from the argument entirely, which named him the victor.

Being a very poor sport, Malik tossed the book across the room. It hit Bakura in the chest with a resounding smack, and the spirit let out a slight 'oof' at the impact. They scowled at each other for a few moments, before Malik let out a snort.

"Well, I'm hopped up on caffeine and you're not." He grumbled, groping for an excuse.

Bakura pushed the book off of his lap and let it land on the floor. Neither occupants of the room moved to pick it up. "And I'm running on zero sleep." He countered.

"That says nothing," Malik snapped grumpily, "So am I."

"Well, I'm still smart enough to not get side-tracked by the stupidest of comments."

Malik let out a very loud, very obnoxious bark of laughter, "That only helps _my _argument, you fool."

Bakura's eyes widened slightly, as he realized his own folly. His scowl deepened, and he shoved his nose back into the book he'd been reading before their little competition took place.

"Tie game." Malik quipped in a cheerful tone. _Bitch_. He added, in his head. He'd used that particular little wisecrack back when Voldemort still had them captive, but he found its use appropriate and necessary both times.

A rare smile appeared on Bakura's face. It was that of light amusement, something that was quite often lost on the spirit's demeanor. "Smart ass," Bakura told the young man, and the smile disappeared as quickly as it'd come as he once more immersed himself into the passage he'd been reading.

"What _are_ we doing reading all this crap, anyways?"

Bakura didn't look up from his book. "We're trying to see if there was anything that ended the snake-bastard's last killing spree."

"When was that?" Malik queried interestedly.

"Seventeen years ago," Bakura answered in a semi-quiet tone. He was trying to multitask: reading and responding to Malik's questions. "I believe that's about when he was supposedly killed. He resurfaced briefly six years ago, the attempt reported by one Harry James Potter."

"Who…?"

Bakura's eyebrow creased, "He's 'The boy who lived'. According to this text, which was recorded by an unknown source within the school during the past two decades, Potter here had a hand in Voldemort's first defeat. He's also been the main defense in halting the snake's progress for the past few years. Three years ago, however, Harry was tricked by a botched Tournament final and Voldemort was reborn in a new form made entirely of magic."

Both of them looked at each other. "A new form made entirely of magic." Malik whispered, rolling the words around on his tongue.

"That's why our magic is useless around him. It's just like with this school. It's so concentrated because he _is_ made of magic." Bakura said.

Malik frowned contemplatively, not really understanding the relevance of it, "But we already kind of figured that."

"Yes, but there's a difference between assumptions and knowing," Bakura interrupted, his eyes going viciously pleased, "This is good news. If we can access our magic soon, we could overpower him. Once we've adapted, their magic should have less effect on us."

"So, it's like building an immunity to their magic." Malik summarized. He took a long swig of his coffee.

"Not 'like'." Bakura corrected with a grim smile, "That's_ exactly_ what it is."

"Sweet."

"Indeed."

Malik gestured towards the book in Bakura's hands, "Hey, who wrote that, anyways?"

Bakura shrugged, "Don't know." He flipped the book closed, peering at the title. "Minerva…" His eyes suddenly widened.

"What is it?"

"This book was written by one Minerva _McGonagall." _Bakura breathed, surprise evident in his tone.

"No way," Malik exclaimed, practically leaping over the coffee table and the giant pile of books, "_She_ recorded this Harry kid? Why?"

"There must be a connection," Bakura clenched the book tightly in his hand as he came to his conclusion. "She was certainly a teacher of his, but she must've known him more personally than that. Something else."

"A comrade?"

"A friend." Bakura corrected, standing up. "A guardian, almost. A 'guardian angel'." He smirked slightly. "All of the other books contradict the things written in this particular text. Don't you get it? She was _recording _everything so that someone could see the truth."

"Are you sure it's the truth?" Malik asked skeptically. He didn't want them to jump into something completely misinformed. It was a rare moment of insight for the young blonde.

Bakura nodded, "Almost positive." His fingers moved along one of the lines on a page he'd stopped at, having re-opened the book, "Here she mentions some kind of prophecy." He looked up to Malik, "We've got to find out what it means."

"Why?"

"Because Harry Potter is obviously the key in winning this war, and is this world's best card. Fighting behind him could make the difference in saving Ryou's father-"

"Or not." Malik finished, realizing that Bakura was having a tough time finishing. Ryou must have woken up.

"_Go back to sleep."_

Ryou's response was a jumbled, barely coherent 'okay'. The poor boy was completely conked out from his all-nighter.

Bakura let out a semi-relieved sigh as he felt Ryou slip back into sleep. His eyes rose, and met Malik's curious violet irises. The Egyptian's body language was stating that he was awaiting Bakura giving a task.

They nodded at each other, in silent agreement. It was an unnecessary form of communication, since they were alone together, but one could never be too careful.

With that, they slipped out of their room, moving like ghosts towards the main corridor.

* * *

"Damn," Malik hissed, peering through the clumps of students talking to one another. "How come she's elusive only when someone _wants_ to find her?"

"Perhaps because she knows that we are looking," Bakura replied ominously. His frown broke into a smirk, "That or we just suck at searching."

"True."

Bakura blew out a sigh, however. He was obviously not in as good a mood as his little quips suggested. He brushed some hair out of his face in an effort to improve his searching skills. "She should be either out here, or in the Great Hall."

"Let's go in, then." Malik indicated past giant, open double-doors leading into the Great Hall, "I can't see her out here."

Bakura nodded, following Malik as they moved silently through the crowd, only noticed by a select few students. One of whom was Draco Malfoy, who looked on with an indiscernible expression on his face.

* * *

"Hey, Draco,"

He looked up, to see Crabbe and Goyle staring at him expectantly. The young blonde male put on his school-famous sneer and crossed his arms. "What?"

"Didn't you hear me?" A boy asked. He was tall, but muscular. That, at least, was evident through the fabric of his shirt. He had shaggy brown hair, pulled back into a low ponytail. Side-bangs framed a sharp face. His eyes were a deep blue, considered a calming colour. This male was anything but calm. In fact, he was quite hot-headed, and extremely good at ruining reputations.

Malfoy looked at the boy from a side-angle. It was a subtle way of asserting dominance in a conversation. He was above this boy. "Obviously not, or I wouldn't have asked." A cruel smile worked onto his face, "Try speaking up next time, Darius."

The brunette scowled, clenching his fists, "Whatever." He met Malfoy's eyes evenly, "I _asked_ you, did you hear the news today?"

"No, why?"

Darius's smile was crueler than Malfoy's had been when he was mocking the brown-haired male. "The Dark Lord got wind of Potter, and some of his men tracked them to the suburbs of London. Says they escaped by Apparating, but that red-haired kid…Weasley. He got splinched."

"Did he die?"

Darius gave Malfoy a curious glance at the genuine question, spoken without a hint of amusement or meanness. "No, the mudblood girl fixed it up before any of Voldemort's men could stop her. He's right mad, they say."

_Yes, completely insane. I agree._ But Malfoy knew that the 'mad' he was thinking about wasn't the 'mad' that Darius had been referring to.

Darius frowned, "You know what, Draco?"

"What?"

"You've been awfully off lately." Darius continued, his eyes boring into Malfoy's. Draco was careful to school his expression almost completely, even adding a nice little sneer for effect.

_Barely here a month and they're already onto me. _Malfoy growled, berating himself for being such an utter failure of an actor.

Crabbe and Goyle blinked, both stupidly awaiting Malfoy's beck and call. The young blonde male glanced at his two friends, before turning back to Darius. "How about we take this elsewhere…?" His eyes narrowed, "You obviously have something to say to me."

Darius smiled, "I do."

"Then, shall we?" Malfoy indicated for them to leave the hallway and head down a less populated corridor. The young man glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, "You two head back to the dorms. I'm fine here."

"But Draco, we-"

He cut Goyle off, "No. It's fine. This is between Darius and me, not between all four of us. _Go_." He all but hissed the last instruction.

The two boys scampered off like their butts were on fire. Malfoy snorted slightly, which actually kind of worked for his whole act. Perhaps Malik and Ryou were right. Crabbe and Goyle weren't his friends. They _were_ more like cronies.

He shook his head slightly, to dispel the thought. There was no way that he could be letting anyone, two almost-strangers of all people, get under his skin. He had to keep his cool. Stay collected.

Darius walked beside them as they made their way through the crowded hallway. It only took them a few minutes to find an area that was almost entirely deserted.

Malfoy turned to his fellow Slytherin, "What is it, Darius?"

"I'll make this quick." Darius sneered, something fairly akin to Malfoy's own trademark expression. "I'm onto you. Don't think that I haven't seen you fraternizing with those beneath us." _Huh. So now there was a social scale that divided the Slytherin house? He only recalled 'fraternizing' with fellow Slytherins._ "Don't think that I don't know that those prefects are on your tail. I've seen them talk to you." _Yeah, more like plotting with them._

"What are you implying?" Malfoy asked in a cold voice, his eyebrows knitted slightly. He didn't like that Darius seemed to be more on his trail than anyone else was. Like a true Slytherin, this guy was disloyal to the bone. He'd ruin Malfoy's reputation in a heartbeat, given the opportunity.

Darius's mouth twisted into an ugly smirk, "I'm _implying_, Draco, that you're different now. Whatever happened between you and your father dearest over the summer made you start questioning the Dark Lord's ways. I'm not stupid. I can see it." His grin grew, "And all I need to do is prove it."

"Feel free to try," Malfoy snapped, pushing his best intimidating act onto Darius, "But you're wrong."

"Anyone would say that. It's called denying the truth." Darius scoffed.

"I'm not denying anything."

Darius snorted, turning away from Malfoy slightly, "I just wanted to tell you to watch your back a little better. I'm going to be keeping an eye on you. The first chance I get to prove that you're becoming a follower of _Potter_, I'll expose you school-wide. Maybe even turn you in to the Dark Lord."

"He favors my family to yours, I recall." Malfoy watched as Darius's expression turned sour. It was a dirty trick, pulling family rank in a debate that really had no place for such a comment, but Malfoy was feeling a little desperate.

"Not for long." Darius hissed venomously, his eyes narrowed into hateful slits, "I'll make you a disgrace. You _are _a disgrace."

Malfoy didn't respond. Darius threw him one more vicious glare before stalking away, trying to keep his back straight and his nose up. Draco knew well that his family remark had just made Darius a powerful enemy. This was not looking good. He would definitely need to take Darius's advice, and keep a keen eye out for unfriendly eyes. He'd have to be more careful than ever.

_Bugger._

* * *

Malik growled under his breath, his eyes searching for the telltale hat that would give away McGonagall's whereabouts. There was no hat to be found.

"Where the hell is she?" Malik grumbled. It was fairly obvious that the teacher was not in the Great Hall. Neither was she in the main foyer area.

_- Where could she possibly be? -_

"_It's a huge school, Ryou."_

_- Well…yes… -_

Bakura's mind snapped back to reality. He'd been quite put out also, not being able to find McGonagall. He'd really hoped that they could find the damn woman and ask her questions about this Harry Potter child.

He was starting to get more and more annoyed about the fact that this woman was obviously playing some powerful cards in this stupid game.

Still, her prowess at fighting a war had nothing to do with how annoyed Bakura was. Seriously, they'd even pinned students against walls and demanded if they knew her whereabouts. About all the information they'd gotten was begging that they didn't know and if they would please, please, please not kill them.

Malik kicked a loose piece of stone as they passed the courtyard. It was a bright, sunny day outside, but the two prefects were lurking in the shadowed, stone pathway. It was already a little cool outside, due to the ever-looming winter weather, and it was even colder in the shade.

The two of them were far too preoccupied with their task to really care about how cold it was.

"May I ask the two of you why, exactly, you've been searching for me all day?"

Malik and Bakura spun around simultaneously at the familiar voice. McGonagall was standing behind them, in all of her stereotypical witch-clothed glory. There were darker-than-usual shadows under her eyes, and her sharp, dark irises themselves were looking a little troubled. Her lips were pulled down into a frown, and her arms were crossed.

All in all, she looked like a really, really scary teacher. Or a really scary teacher who took a liking to dressing up like a storybook witch.

"Well…?" She pressed, tapping a foot lightly against the stone pathway. Her lips pursed. She wasn't going to let them go without an answer. That much was obvious in her expression and her body language.

Bakura stepped forwards, the book she'd written, or rather, the journal she'd recorded was clenched in his hand. She didn't appear to recognize it, however, as something of hers. "We have a few questions to ask you."

"Ah?" She queried, a mocking smile twisting onto her face, "Am I suspect for treason?"

The spirit shook his head, letting out a derisive chuckle, "Hardly. In fact, we're looking for treasonous answers."

"That's dangerous ground to tread on." McGonagall warned, but it sounded more like musing. Perhaps she found their circular antics amusing. Well, they sure as hell didn't.

"Are you willing to answer?"

McGonagall's entire aura became wary, and a little distant. She was definitely not in a very cooperative mood. "Willing, perhaps, but actually giving you the answer you want may be a different matter entirely."

Malik stepped in, his hands fisted at his sides. He wasn't much for what they were doing, and it was starting to really antagonize him. "Let's stop matching wits and actually be productive for once, okay?"

Bakura elbowed him, "Shut up, before you do some damage." He hissed.

Malik's mind suddenly went back to the day before, where Bakura had made a huge show of intimidating Luna until it was quite possible that she'd write them off as lost causes entirely. His eyes narrowed. "Hypocrite," He hissed under his breath.

McGonagall straightened, facing the two boys head-on. Her hand discreetly brushed a near-hidden pocket in her cloak. It must've been where she was keeping her wand. She wanted to make sure that she had it handy, it seemed.

No matter what they said, McGonagall would not trust them simply due to their affiliation – no matter how unwanted – with Voldemort.

"Who's Harry Potter?" Malik demanded, stepping forwards to ascertain that he would instigate the conversation. He was sick, so sick of the stupid mind games. It was time for some straight answers.

McGonagall didn't appear taken aback. Her face went blank, and the blankness was quickly replaced by amused disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me that you aren't aware who he is?" One silver eyebrow arched.

"Yeah, we know that he's some kind of Chosen One, and that lots of crap happens around him." Malik snapped, crossing his arms. "Is there anything else?"

"To judge a character by such simple words is downright insulting." McGonagall admonished, folding her hands. She had decided that her wand was unnecessary. "Yes, there is much more to Harry James Potter than is said by students and teachers alike here. Very few know much of his true character, and fewer still were fortunate enough to be his friends."

"Any names in particular?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed, "I've told you before that I will not stand for needless infiltration, and that I am not beyond causing a very dramatic scene. Please, do not underestimate my means."

"Don't mistake ours, then." Bakura murmured, fixing the old woman with a very deliberate stare. His ruby irises bled a near-brown for a whisper of a second. Ryou was definitely helping the spirit along. Well-meaning confrontation was not Bakura's forte; therefore it landed in Ryou's responsibility to assure that nothing went horribly, terribly wrong…

…not that Bakura couldn't just take forceful action should he decide to do so. He'd demonstrated such power over Ryou the day before, by blocking him completely from any scrap of control that Ryou may have attempted to wield.

"How am I not to?" McGonagall queried. Her voice was very teacher-like. The hardness, the coldness, though, was still quite detectable. She was trying to mask it, and was not succeeding. Her emotional ties to the quarrel were far too prominent to let her act apathetic.

When neither spoke, she continued. "The both of you have exhibited very suspicious behavior. You disappear on a constant basis, and neither of you are willing to explain your trips. I also saw that little demonstration with Luna Lovegood. Heaven knows what the child was up to, but I can assure you, any harm to her and many powerful wizards and witches will be after your heads."

"Yourself included, of course." Bakura added, grimacing at the thought. She looked very authoritative, as she was. He knew well that she wielded enough power behind those strong features to do some serious damage.

"Myself included." She admitted with a wry, slightly territorial smile.

Malik snorted derisively. "How many times do I have to stress that Voldemort is a freak? I'm all for uniqueness, but this is one type that I'm not going to willingly stand by."

"_I _will stand by what I told you the last time we argued. There are far too many sacrifices in war to behave as selfishly as the two of you do. I could care less that you boys weren't involved before. You're involved _now_. This isn't just some juvenile adventure. There are real people dying out there, ones with families and loved ones just like you two. Unless and until you boys can accept that, I unfortunately cannot be of any service to you."

"But-"

McGonagall glared at them, harsh and unsympathetic. "Good day, boys." She was gone almost as quickly as she'd come, disappearing down the shadowed walkway and back into the school.

Bakura swore under his breath, turning and ramming his fist into one of the stone pillars with such force that the stone quivered slightly, from his strength.

"That's not going to help us any." Malik told him.

Bakura blew some hair from his face, "Yes, I realize that." He spat. "But that woman is as stubborn as she is female, and there is nothing that we can do to change her views. She finds us childish and blind, running into something that we didn't realize the consequences of."

"Well, that _is_ kind of how it went down." Malik commented offhandedly, shrugging one shoulder in a mildly defeated manner.

"I just wish we'd gotten something out of her. She knew we wanted to know about that prophecy. I could see it. She was far too wary, warier than usual. She wasn't lying when she said we were treading on dangerous ground. We were dangerously close to something that she wants under wraps."

"And we're going snooping, I take it?"

Bakura smirked coldly, "Soon, but not yet." His eyes sharpened, "First, we need to focus on finding that Neville Longbottom kid. I'm sure that if we can't find him any other way, the Headmaster will point us in the right direction. We'll say he's suspect for the prank against Alecto Carrow a little while back."

"Yeah, too bad he'll be looking the real culprits in their faces."

"But no one needs to know that." The spirit cut in, spinning around so that he could lean against the slightly indented pillar that he'd driven his fist into not a moment before. "This Neville kid is priority one right now. We'll write off McGonagall…for now."

"She's not talking. I don't see her being useful any time soon." Malik said in concern, frowning deeply.

Bakura grinned widely, flashing his elongated canines at his partner-in-crime. "Shall we? If we can't get it out of the Headmaster, we can _beat_ it out of some students."

"Because that's going to earn us some brownie points." Malik's frown deepened further, and his hand went to his stomach. "One sec. I think I ate something funny yesterday. I'll catch up."

"You'll catch up." Bakura said with a shrug, turning on his heel and heading towards the school.

Malik's hand went to the stone wall that only reached waist-high. Using it to steady himself, Malik leaned over it into one of the small flowerbeds. "Think I'm going to hurl…"

The pain intensified instantaneously. It was like something was eating him from the inside out. He hissed out at the pain in his stomach, cradling it gently. What the heck was this? _Had_ he eaten something bad? He wouldn't have been surprised. Some of the food was pretty weird.

All humor was lost as agony ripped at his stomach, as if that something that was eating him had suddenly decided to tear its way to the outside world.

He crumpled, biting his tongue with enough force to drive it straight through, trying to will the bile back down his throat. He let out a tight-lipped, pained groan.

That was when a jolt of pain lanced up his body, from his toes to his head, and back down to rest at his very center. Not his heart, but his very, absolute core. He balled his hands into tight, painful fists.

He knew this feeling.

_No…_

* * *

Bakura slowed to a halt, his head falling down. Sweat pricked at his brow. What was this?

An abnormal shiver ran up the spirit's spine. He growled under his breath, not liking the sensation one bit.

_- Yami…? - _

"_Hush, Ryou. It's fine. You need rest."_

_- I'm awake. What happened? What's wrong? -_

Bakura chanced a glance behind him, unable to see Malik through the throng of students in the corridor. The shiver returned, much smaller this time. Had he not been alert from the first one, he'd have mistaken this second one for just a chill. After all, the door was open.

A chill…

"_I don't like this."_

_- Don't like what, yami? -_

_This isn't good,_ the spirit thought to himself ominously, running his fingers up and down his goose bump lined arm gently.

_Not good at all._

* * *

Somewhere, far within the depths of the countryside, a woman stirred. She sat up slowly, her eyes focused directly upon the roof of her little tent. Her eyes snapped to the sleeping man beside her, his chest rising up and down softly in the calm of sleep.

She couldn't bring a smile to her face, at the gentle sight. Instead, she slipped out of her thin sleeping bag and unzipped the tent. Stepping into the early throws of morning, she shielded her eyes from the relentless African sun. Oh yes, it'd still be a long way to India.

Though it was already beginning to heat, the ground warm beneath her bare feet, Ishizu Ishtar shivered. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. It was a familiar sensation. One that led to terrors that she knew far too well.

She took in a shaky breath, hand covering her eyes, accidentally smudging the kohl that she'd forgotten to remove the night before. She pulled her hand back, and it was smudged with black.

To her, it looked suspiciously like a black, evil shadow lurking within the creases of her hands. She fisted her hand, trying to get rid of the image.

The first words she spoke to the new day were not happy ones. They were a pained, fearful whisper of monstrous things to come.

"It has begun."

End of Chapter

Uh-ohes! Looks like more trouble is on the horizon for our dear protagonists! What shall happen? (gasps) You'll just have to come back next time to find out! (And the time after that, and the time after that) XD

Reviews are like tips, everyone likes to get them!


	15. Collision Course

(Stares blankly at computer screen) 150 reviews? Really…? (Blink, blink) Wow. I feel…so very honored. I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying my fic. It really fills me with gratitude. You guys are pushing me to update and continue on. (Sniffles) I feel…so horribly corny!

**PLEASE NOTE** I tried to pitch this concept in the last chapter, but no one seemed to notice, but I really need views on this. I'm considering splitting this story into two fics. If you are for or against this idea, I'd like to know. Basically, they'd both be about 25-30 chapters long each, instead of one fic that's 50 plus. Ultimately, of course, it is MY decision, but I would like some feedback on whether or not you feel it is a good idea. I'm not too sure about either concept, so some feelings on that would help me make the decision. I'd appreciate it, really.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. Yes people, I realize that it's just a boring, straight-to-the-point disclaimer today. SO SUE ME!

Wait…

I probably shouldn't be putting 'sue me' in a disclaimer…O.O Please don't sue me! (FYI, this has to be my longest AN ever)

Chapter Fifteen

Collision Course

Neville Longbottom slipped through the inconspicuous single-door leading into the Room of Requirement. He breathed out a long, strained sigh, closing the door and stepping a few feet to the left so that the door could vanish back into the wall.

At least he wouldn't be found.

Today, the Room had fashioned itself as a small lounge, specifically for him. A few books were laid out on a shelf, and there was a very inviting looking sea-green sofa waiting for him, complete with plushy cushions and a blanket in case he got chilly.

Also, there were some tea cups on a table for him. If he wanted any, he'd have to escape to get some sugar, milk, teabags, and hot water. Honestly he didn't find it worth the effort. Sensing his thoughts, the tea cups sank into the table, and instead, a copy of the day's paper appeared.

He moved towards the sofa, and flopped down onto it, facing the ceiling.

"_Promise me, Neville." _His conversation with Luna from a few days before was still fresh and at the forefront of his mind. _"That you'll accept them."_

He didn't understand how he could possibly follow through with her request. These two, no matter what lies they'd fed to Luna, were still Voldemort's lackeys. No extent of explaining could ever change that. They did his dirty work, and for that, they would be his enemies until the war ended, or either they or he died.

Neville just couldn't be soft like this. He had to do this. If for no one else, if not for himself, he had to do this for Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

_And all the others who've been murdered in this bloody war._ Neville thought bitterly.

The past year had hardened him. Every naïve, happy thought he'd once had, had been lost along with Dumbledore. They'd tumbled from that tower along with the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen.

"…_I can just tell. Trust me."_

He didn't understand Luna. Not that anyone did. It was just…he always thought that he kind of was a little akin to her. They were both outsiders. That sort of made them click.

But the way she was acting with these two prefects was so odd. What could she possibly know about them to have her so sure of her views? It was just too odd…even for Luna.

These two guys…they were the strangest blokes Neville had ever had the misfortune of meeting. That was saying something, since he'd met a lot of people. Well, it wasn't that they were the weirdest; it was more that he just couldn't get a read on them.

No one could. Not one member of the newly re-fashioned DA could figure out what these two's motives were. There was always the stereotypical: Voldemort-followers excuse. That had to be their motives, right? That was all there was to it. They were looking too far into this.

Neville had other thoughts. He was curious, he had to admit. They had certainly done enough to make their alliances questioned.

First, they hadn't turned any students, not one, in for anything above being late for class. Sure, they'd roughed some pranksters around, and scared the pants off of anyone who looked the wrong way at them, but they'd never done anything really…bad to anyone. They hadn't brought one student in for any kind of punishment that could lead them in any way of being considered a rebel against Voldemort.

It was almost like the prefects knew of that possibility, and worked extra-hard to avoid that from happening.

And it confused Neville to no end.

"_I don't think they want to follow Voldemort."_

"_They did save my life…"_

"_Bad people sometimes do good things."_

"_Just trust me."_

Neville let out a groan of exasperation, and pulled a pillow from behind it and smacked it to his face. What a mess. He was never going to be a good leader, was he? Not when he was this unsure of everything he did.

_Luna, I don't know how you've done it, but you've successfully made me doubt all of my intentions towards the prefects._

That was what she'd wanted.

Luna was tricky. She always appeared to be a bit of an airhead, but she was smart. Very smart. She knew how to get things to go her way, and when she needed to, she could be extremely manipulative. The past half-year or so had really brought out that side of her for the world to see. Suddenly, Luna was no longer a crazy, but a crazy threat.

He knew that the Carrows were targeting her. That was why he'd been such a smart-ass in the recent week or so. He was trying to divert the attention away from her.

Only problem was, now the Carrows were watching him just as closely, which made it all that much harder for him to operate the secret DA group.

"I'm so confused." Neville moaned out, pulling the pillow down away from his face, his eyes half-lidded in frustration, his eyebrows pulled down into a near-'v' shape.

_What am I supposed to do, Gran? _

All his life that he'd spent with his grandmother, she'd acted as the means to toughen him up. She was strict, harsh, and sometimes even a little nasty. All his life, he hadn't really realized why she did what she did, but now he sort of knew.

She was building him up for something like this. She had to have known that a war was a very likely thing, and that Voldemort was almost definitely not dead. That was why she'd taken him in, instead of letting Neville's kindhearted, bubbly aunt take him in.

She wanted to make sure that he could hold his own, when he got out into the world. When he'd have to make decisions for himself…

And make decisions for others, become a leader.

_I don't know if I can do it._

It was a grim thought to be thinking. After all, far too many people were depending on him, directly and indirectly. He had to help Harry. Harry was the key to victory, whether he knew it or not.

Neville was pretty sure that Harry knew it, and that was why he was keeping such a low profile…aside from his occasional explosions onto Daily Prophet headlines. He seemed to be avoiding Voldemort easily enough, from what Neville could see.

Things at Hogwarts, however, weren't going nearly so smoothly. They'd barely managed to get two meetings in without having the Carrows pounce on them. They were suspects already in multiple pranks and anti-Voldemort statements school-wide. Not that they weren't guilty-as-charged, or anything. It just complicated things, for them.

He stuffed the pillow back on top of his face.

_We need help_

* * *

"We need help."

Ryou glanced up at Malik, who was twirling a piece of his hair absentmindedly. Bakura found the gesture a tad bit girly, but refrained from taking over to make a comment. As witty as he enjoyed being, he knew time and place well enough.

Malik had been in a particularly foul mood the entire day, and had barely talked aside from the odd sarcasm, grumbles, or snide remarks. Ryou had attempted to find out what in the world had caused such an unexpected mood turn, but it was apparent that Malik was not talking about it.

The young, white-haired boy sighed. Perhaps it was just stress. They were, after all, in some of the worst trouble the two of them had ever been in. And that was saying something, considering what they typically got into.

_- We need to find Neville Longbottom. – _Ryou thought to his yami, and then voiced the words aloud to Malik.

Malik didn't respond, only nodded absently. At least he was paying attention…well, sort of.

Bakura, on the other hand, cackled through their link_, "To think that such insurrection, within a school no less, has passed under the snake-bastard's radar so _easily_." _

_- We don't know just how strong a rebellion this is, though. It could easily be something small and easily crushed. –_ Ryou thought sadly, his eyes downcast. It was true: they had no idea what the extent of these students' revolt was, and if it only reached so far…then they would have to be written off as a lost cause.

"_I know." _

Ryou shook his head. He hated thinking these dark, dreadful thoughts. It was bad enough what they were going through, but the toll it was taking on his mind was tough too.

"_It's me." _Bakura explained, tagging onto Ryou's feelings, _"Due to the nature of the situation we're in, my half of our soul is considerably more powerful. If I could help you, Ryou, I would. But I can't change anything…not right now."_

_- What do you mean? -_

"_This could forever warp your mind so that it bares likeness to mine, far more drastically than before."_

_- Oh… -_

"_Yes. Unfortunately, in wars such as this, there is no room for innocence, purity, or naïveté." _

Ryou didn't say anything in response to that. What was there to say? He hadn't known that this was editing his mind. Well, he sort of felt it, but he didn't know it'd be on this sort of a scale.

On that thought, Ryou made a soft query, _- Will I disappear? –_

"_No. Not entirely." _Bakura responded in a mutter, barely audible through the link. _"But you will be different."_

_- I don't really want to change. –_

Bakura let out a quiet chuckle. _"I know, Ryou. I know."_

The young, white-haired boy stood up. "Okay Malik," He declared in a semi-choked fashion. The tone of his voice caught Malik's attention, and concerned violet met equally as concerned dark brown, "We need to get out of this room and do something about finding Neville Longbottom."

"Can't we just ask Luna? She'll know who he is." Malik muttered, sinking lower into his chair. Ryou caught a brief flash of discomfort across his face, and one of Malik's tanned hands discreetly moved to cover his stomach.

Ryou cocked his head at the gesture that he'd luckily noticed, "Are you sick, Malik?"

"No," He said shortly. The response was so abrupt, so sharp that Ryou couldn't help but disbelieve him. Malik hadn't displayed this kind of irritability for no reason in a pretty long time. It troubled Ryou to no end, then, that he was acting this way now.

No matter how much he could just write things off to stress over their situation, Ryou couldn't help but heed the small coil in his stomach that told him there was something more going on.

"We should go now," Ryou murmured, "And see if we can find Neville Longbottom."

"Like I said before," Malik replied in a cool, even tone, "Let's just ask Luna."

Ryou sighed, rubbing his temples. Whatever was wrong with his friend, it was really starting to grate on his nerves. And that was tough, because Ryou rarely got annoyed with friends. "How about this," He suggested calmly, "I'll go search, and you search for Luna. If you find her, and she tells you, then you find Neville, and bring him back to our room. I'll meet you back here in two hours." He fixed Malik with a very chilly stare, "Sounds good?"

Malik returned the icy stare, "Peachy." He hissed, standing up and gliding out of the room with seamless, yet still enraged movements. The door opened, and then slammed.

Ryou was alone in their room. He groaned, and buried his face in his hands.

"_I'm worried, landlord."_

Not good. When his yami was worried, that was when things were not looking up. In fact, that was when things were on a head-on collision course for doom…straight downwards.

_- About? - _Ryou all but choked.

"_Malik," _The spirit answered, his attention on the door, _"He's been odd."_

_- Yes, yami, I know that. -_

"_Don't get snappish. I'm just concerned."_

Ryou had nothing to say to that.

_- Let's just go. – _He mumbled through the link, standing up. Ryou felt horribly exhausted, as if he had just run some kind of marathon.

He'd never fought with Malik before, at least, not since they became friends. He didn't know how to handle it. Malik's behavior was out of line, but Ryou wasn't all that nice either.

Guilt swept through him.

_I should have been calmer with him…_

"_Had you gotten any 'calmer', you would have frozen the room over." _Bakura remarked cheekily, but there was the underlying gruffness that said he was annoyed with Malik's unnecessary grumpiness as much as, if not more than Ryou was.

Once again, Ryou could not find any way to respond to Bakura's comment. There was just nothing to say when you were being reprimanded in a roundabout kind of way by a sadistic kleptomaniac who's decided to randomly play mother.

"_I heard that." _The spirit grumbled. _"'Mother' my ass…"_

Ryou chuckled, and the effort brought forth a bit of lightness in an all-around gloomy problem. He walked through the door and out the room, closing and locking it behind him.

No students were in the hallways. Oh yes, it was in the middle of classes, wasn't it?

Ryou let out a sigh. Well, he'd have to pick a class, hope for the best, and wait until the period was over. Maybe, by some stroke of luck, he'd pick up a hint on Neville Longbottom.

Well, maybe. He sure hoped so.

He began walking down the staircase, silently thankful that it was not in the mood to move whilst he was standing on it. He turned a sharp left once he got into the main corridor, and decided to go down the wing where the Transfiguration classes were held.

Ryou just hoped that he wouldn't run into McGonagall again. Any more run-ins with her would likely get him hexed or worse. She was obviously losing patience with them. And Ryou knew that she was almost entirely convinced that they were just stringing her along, and would report everything to Voldemort when they felt like it.

She couldn't have been more wrong, but Ryou and Bakura knew that there was absolutely no way of convincing her of that.

Ryou's eyebrows knit together, _- What if we never find Neville Longbottom? – _

"_We will. There may be a million kids in this stupid school, but one of them has to be Neville."_

_- There aren't a million kids. -_

"_You're nit-picking again."_

Ryou blushed at the accusation. _– Sorry. – _Then a realization dawned upon him with growing horror. _– What if 'Neville Longbottom' is a codename that we're supposed to figure out? –_

"_Like an anagram or something?" _The spirit fell into silence. Then: _"Shit."_

_- What? -_

"_Well, if you're right, and this name is an anagram, then we're ten times more screwed than we were if this was just some random kid."_

Ryou opened his mouth to respond, but cut himself off as two students ran into each other at the end of the hallway.

"Martin?" One of the boys, the one who was gangly and tall with brown hair and freckles, queried. "What are you doing out of class?"

"Could say the same for you, mate." The other replied.

Ryou blinked. Why were _both_ of them out of class?

Martin shrugged, then, and grinned at his brown-haired friend. "I'm actually going back to my dorm. Forgot my books again…"

The other laughed, "Yeah…me too."

"Really?" Martin queried, one eyebrow raised, "Or was it…?" He gestured with his hand in some obscure motion.

"No." The other said shortly, shaking his head in a way that told the other boy to shut up.

"Okay, Neville. Let's keep secrets." Martin said with a snort, smirking at his friend in a very impish fashion.

_- Neville? –_

"_What the hell are you waiting for?" _Bakura shouted, _"Grab him!"_

Ryou took a few steps towards the two boys, "Neville?" He said, continuing to walk towards them. "Neville Longbottom?"

The brown-haired boy's eyes widened, and the other growled out a: "Shit, the prefect."

Then the brown-haired boy, Neville, took off running down the opposite hallway. Ryou immediate gave chase.

"I need to talk to you!" Ryou shouted.

"Run, Neville!" Martin cried out.

"_Get him!"_

* * *

Malik snarled under his breath. Finding Neville was way harder than it should have been. How hard was a dumb kid to find, anyways?

_(Too hard for you, of course. You can't amount to anything.)_

Malik froze.

_No…_

_(Oh yes…) _The voice mocked in a tone that mimicked Malik's own voice to a scary near-perfection.

_Not you._ Malik whimpered with a shiver, _I got rid of you. You're gone. You're dead._

_(The Pharaoh got rid of me, Malik-pretty. You can't pull off such a feat. Your helplessness got rid of me, courtesy of that Egyptian relic of a spirit, and your helplessness has brought me back…) _The voice trailed off. Malik could picture that cruel, menacing smile. He could picture it all too well.

Malik slammed back against the wall, both hands gripping his skull. He bit his lip, drawing blood. His eyelids fluttered, his vision blurred by hot tears.

His body jerked spasmodically, that pain that had attacked him the day before ripping through him once more. It wasn't as bad as it had been, but that was probably because…

Oh God, he didn't want to think about it. Why? Why? Why?

_Why did you come back? Why couldn't you just…stay…dead?_

A chuckle. _(Because, that would be stupid.)_

There was one more jerking spasm before Malik managed to get his body under control, falling onto his side in a shivering ball of sweat and tears. _How so…? _He challenged weakly, all fight left in him having been drained by the attack.

It chuckled again. Obviously, it found Malik's torture quite amusing. Malik wasn't surprised. At all.

_(Well, that would mean that I couldn't be here to help you, Malik-pretty.)_

His brain stopped.

He couldn't comprehend the words that'd just floated through his mind, straight from the mouth of his own personal Satan.

He managed to sit up, surprise etched across his sweat-drenched face. It'd been such a quick attack, that he'd barely had time to comprehend it all.

He forced himself to embrace the mind link, and his world was consumed with darkness.

* * *

"_Damn, that stupid kid can run…" _Bakura hissed. _"Here, let me take control."_

Ryou nodded, _- O-okay. –_

Bakura picked up speed immediately, almost crashing into the wall as he turned a corner after Neville.

He just wasn't managing to get the stupid kid. He forced his legs to get him just behind the boy, who was still running like there was no tomorrow.

Then Bakura decided to do something incredibly stupid.

He leapt through the air, grabbing a hold of the back of Neville's robes, and brought the two of them crashing to the ground in a heap of black robes and limbs.

"What do you want from me?" The boy cried out, struggling to untangle himself.

"_Switch."_

_- Got it. -_

Ryou sat up, panting. "I…need to talk to you. It's important."

"I haven't done anything wrong." The boy mumbled, averting his eyes from what he saw as a prefect about to punish him.

"Dumbledore's Army."

Neville's head shot up. "W-W-What?"

"Luna Lovegood…do you know her?" When Neville nodded hesitantly, Ryou continued, "She told us to say that to you. My friend and I, that is. You know; the other prefect."

"Why would Luna tell you anything?"

"Because we need your help."

"Why would two of You-know-who's followers need help from a rebel?" Neville challenged, watching as Ryou stood up.

Ryou offered a hand to the young man, who took it, and helped him up. "We're not following him by choice. He has my father prisoner. He wants to use us."

"Why?"

Ryou hesitated.

"_Don't tell him."_

"I can't tell you."

Neville's expression turned visibly guarded. He knew that Ryou wasn't telling him something big. "Then we can't help you." He turned to leave.

Ryou grabbed his arm. "Please," He begged. He wouldn't go through this again. It'd already happened with McGonagall. "I'm begging you. What I can't tell you…it's something that your magical people should have never come into contact with. For the sake of everyone you know, please, don't make me divulge such information to you."

Neville was silent for a few minutes. His face was hard to read, but Ryou could tell that he was seriously deliberating.

"Just how," Neville began slowly, "dangerous are you?"

"At my peak?" Ryou asked. Neville nodded again. "Stronger than _Him_, I assure you."

Neville visibly shivered. "Then I'm worried." He explained quietly. "I can't have you turning on us. It'll spell the end for our side of the war."

Ryou bit his lip. How was he supposed to deter this?

"_Do as I say. Okay:"_

Ryou began to relay his yami's message, "We don't have any loyalties to you, and we both know that. But my friend and I…we _hate_ Him. He's got my father, and I'll do anything to free him. If that means joining your side in this war to bring Him down, then we'll do it."

Neville faltered, obviously surprised by the honesty of Ryou's words. His eyes went blank, before he let out a slight chuckle. "I guess Luna was right about you two." He murmured, before regarding Ryou properly. "We could use your help, if you're as strong as you say you are."

Ryou nodded, a beaming smile spreading across his face. "Thank you." He said with feeling. Neville didn't even know just how thankful Ryou was.

"But don't think this means I trust you," Neville warned, "I can go on a gut feeling, but you'll still have to prove yourself."

"No problem." Ryou assured him.

"Then I think we have an agreement." Neville extended a hand, offering it to Ryou. There was gentleness to this boy's face that made Ryou wonder whether such a person was suited to war and battling. He was obviously a kind individual, forced to fit himself into the mold of a warrior due to a war that he should not have been a part of.

Ryou felt bad for him. He really did.

"Let me show you something, then." Neville said, tugging lightly on Ryou's shirt sleeve. "It'll be where you'll meet us at the next Meeting."

"Huh?"

He chuckled at Ryou's confusion, and led him back down a corridor. "The Room of Requirement," Neville began, after glancing around to make sure they weren't being followed, "Is where we meet to discuss strategies…amongst other things."

"So you use guerilla tactics against the Headmaster?" Ryou guessed. Neville nodded, outwardly impressed with Ryou's assumption.

"Yes, but we rarely succeed." His eyes fell to the stone floor. "That's where you'll help, hopefully."

"We're all ears."

Neville cocked an eyebrow. "We?"

Ryou waved a hand, blushing at his horrible slip. "Nothing. Just a little inside joke."

"Oh. Okay. Follow me." Neville gestured for him to follow.

Ryou did.

* * *

_Malik opened his eyes. He was standing in a silvery mist. All that he could see was the sand beneath his feet, tickling the pads of his feet. He looked around. Still nothing._

"_Malik-pretty…"_

_He spun around. "So it _is_ you."_

_Before him was a carbon copy of himself. There were only slight differences. Wilder blonde hair, sticking up and gravity-defying angles. His eyes were not sharper than Malik's, like most dark halves tended to have, however. His eyes were wider, but colder. Muddled, as if he were not entirely focused on whatever he saw._

_This Malik was clad in a deep purple cloak that covered his neck, falling open to expose tan khaki pants and a black, skin-tight muscle shirt. His wrists were adorned with gold bands, and he wore long earrings bearing phoenixes._

"_The earrings are new." Malik commented lightly, taking a discreet step backwards away from the monstrous being before him._

_Marik chuckled, his mouth curved up in that smile that said he was amused, yet was still mocking whomever he spoke to. "Malik-pretty, did you ever doubt it was me?"_

"_I beg your pardon?"_

"_Did you ever doubt that it was me?" He repeated, "You knew, right? That constant little wrinkle of darkness in the back of your mind. Marik's been here ever since that snake attacked you."_

_Malik frowned. He hadn't noticed it. Not until his first attack, the day before. _

_Marik pouted, reading what Malik's expression portrayed. "You didn't know it was me." He sounded kind of hurt, actually._

"_I've had other things on my mind." Malik muttered, glancing away from the piercing eyes. Those piercing eyes that never focused, yet still always followed him with disturbing acuteness. "As I'm sure you know."_

"_Yes." Marik admitted with a wave of his black-gloved hand, the gold bracelet flashing even though there was no light to speak of. _

"_Are you here to wreak havoc again?" Malik demanded, his eyes locking back onto Marik's cool gaze. "There's no Pharaoh to overthrow this time. We're not in Japan."_

"_Marik's not silly, Malik-pretty. He knows that." _

"_Then _why_?" Malik shouted angrily. He balled his hands into tight, hateful fists. "Why do you insist on coming back to ruin me? I had hoped you were gone! Can't you just stay dead, you fucking cockroach?"_

_Marik recoiled as if having been stung. He brought one of his hands to his heart, a horrified expression upon his face. "Marik's not here to hurt you, Malik-pretty!"_

"_You lying bastard!" Malik yelled. "How do you expect me to believe such frivolous bullshit?"_

"_Well, it's not Marik's fault."_

_Malik had to double-take on that one. "What do you mean it's 'not your fault'? You chose to come back. It's what you _do_: torment me."_

_Marik's mouth split into a wide, happy grin. "You called me! You needed help, and when you could find none, you subconsciously drew Marik back! Marik's not the same as he was, Malik-pretty. After all, he's a product of your mind." His head bounced with glee, "He's not as angry as he was last time. That's your doing."_

"_You're creepy." Malik grumbled, unable to maintain eye-contact again. He wasn't sure how to deal with this new and improved psychotic creation. "And I don't need or want your help."_

"_Of course you need me." Marik said cheerfully. "Otherwise, Marik would be gone by now."_

"_What?"_

_The other blonde flung his arms outward, so that they were extended as far as they went, palms out. "Marik's here to help you, whether _he _wants to or not, Malik-pretty!"_

_Malik blinked, uncomprehending. _

_Marik let out a dramatic sigh, putting his hands on his hips. "Marik told you before, didn't he?"_

"_Why do you keep jumping in and out of referring to yourself in the third-person?" _

"_Marik's crazy! What do you think?" _

_Malik's eye twitched. "Why do you sound happy about that…?"_

"_Because Marik likes being crazy!" The blonde declared. Suddenly, his face went serious. "But Marik cannot help you quite yet. The alien magic is blocking me."_

_Malik's brow furrowed, "But you're talking to me now."_

"_Only because it's in your mind. Marik can speak to you like this, but he cannot take control of your body or help you outwardly until you get stronger." Marik pointed an accusing finger at Malik's face, "So hurry up."_

"_It's not like I'm not trying," Malik snapped, "Don't lecture me."_

_Marik pouted again, "You don't trust me."_

_Malik fixed his shadow with a deadpan look. "Of course I don't. Last time you showed up, you nearly destroyed me and took the rest of the world with me."_

"_Marik won't do it again. I promise. Unless you tell him too. Then he will!" _

"_What if I don't accept your offer to help?" Malik queried, and mist floated between the two of them for the briefest of seconds, "What if I tell you to go away? Will you?"_

_Marik seemed to consider this for a moment, before he shrugged and smiled again. "Yes, Marik will leave if you tell him to. However, it may not be in your best interest."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because, Marik helping you could be the difference between life and death…for all of you!"_

End of Chapter

Yeah, Marik's back. What can I say? I like the character. I think he could have been so much more epic than he was, in the anime. But alas, he was not. OH! And yes, I am quite aware that he has moments of speaking in first person. I'm doing it on purpose. Don't worry, it's not an error! XD

Oh well! He makes his awesome comeback in my fic, so I'm cool with it!

Review!


	16. Rip

Okay people: it has been decided. I'm splitting this little monster into two books. Otherwise, it'd have been a pretty damn huge monster. XD

Sorry to those who'd have preferred a longer, single story. OH! And thanks to all of my reviewers. There are so many of you, and it makes my day every time I upload, because you're all there to review. I really, really do feel good.

You guys are great.

**NOTICE: **I've created a Livejournal account (the link is in my profile). It details previews, update dates, and current progress on my fics. Just so that ya'll know, and can maybe get a little insight on my chapters. Also, all review replies will be posted there, just so that I remember that I've responded to everyone.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter. I also don't own the Malik-pretty nickname. I'm not entirely sure where I heard it, so I can't give specific recognition to whoever created it. I've read it in a few fics, I believe. I claim no ownership over that nickname!

"_Bakura to Ryou…"_

_- Ryou to Bakura… -_

_(Marik to Malik…)_

_Malik to Marik…_

Now that that's over with…

Chapter Sixteen

Rip

"_Tell me,"_ Yami no Bakura hissed in a very dangerous, cold tone, _"Why have you brought him back?"_

Malik opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a fist smashing a hole into the wall not centimeters away from his head. His eyes went wide. Oh, he was _so_ screwed.

When Malik had returned to meet Ryou at their room, Ryou had given the good news that he'd found Neville. Neville had taken him to the Room of Requirement, which was not only a rumor spread by students, but was an actual place in the school. Not only that, but the two of them, three counting Bakura, and four counting Marik, were to meet the rebel group the next day at five in the morning at the Room of Requirement.

Malik hadn't yet informed his two friends that Marik had become a fourth party in their little group.

But he knew that he had to. He wanted to, he really did.

They'd been relaxing in their room - Malik was not relaxing at all - when he'd decided to spill the beans. He just couldn't keep it from them.

Bakura had realized what the difference with Malik was, though. And he'd done it before Malik could even say a word.

…Which resulted in Bakura taking control of Ryou's body, pinning Malik to the wall, and proceeding on with a very intimidating act of near-murder that had Malik sweating under the collar like mad.

"Please, Bakura, listen to-" A hand to his throat, cutting him off. "-me…!"

Bakura tightened his already painful hold on the Egyptian, "Give me one good reason, Malik. How do I know that this isn't Yami no Malik…?"

Malik shook his head, well, as much as he could within the thief's death grip. "It's not."

"_Prove it._"

His pupils dilated from the sheer force being placed on his windpipe, and he took an agonizing wheeze in to attempt to put some air back into his lungs. "I'd tap the Pharaoh."

That made the Spirit of the Ring double-take. "What the hell?"

"I'd tap the Pharaoh," Malik continued in a rushed tone, "I like me some leathery-ass." He inwardly prayed that the perverted satire would assure Bakura as to who it was. Marik didn't tend to sway in the comedic direction, when it came to conversation.

Like an answer to a prayer, the pressure on his neck began to release, ever so slightly.

"Can you let me explain…?" Malik ventured, bringing a hand up to grip Bakura's wrist. He pulled the 'kicked puppy' look, but all he got in return for that one was a snort.

"About what, the return of your darker personality or your newly discovered leather-and-Pharaoh fetish…?"

Malik winced, a grimace flashing across his face. Bakura was never going to let him live that one down. In fact, he'd probably bring it up at various times when they were in public, especially if they got to see Yugi and his friends again. Bakura would definitely want to make both him and the Pharaoh squirm by making such announcements.

Bakura appeared contemplative for a moment, before inclining his head in a 'go ahead' gesture. "Tell me." He intoned, eyes ensnaring Malik in such a way that the young Egyptian knew he would never get away without an explanation, even if he wanted to.

Malik clasped his hands together, feeling a gentle tugging at the fabric of his mind. Marik, he assumed, telling him that he was watching.

"He's…different."

"How so…?" Bakura pressed calmly, mellifluously, _gently_, even. It was so un-Bakura that Malik was taken aback. When he glanced up, though, and saw that the calmness didn't reach his eyes, Malik knew that it was just Bakura's way of making him talk. No peacefulness intended.

"I spoke with him, earlier." Malik explained quietly, refusing to look his comrade in the eyes. He felt kind of like he'd betrayed Bakura and Ryou, somehow. Guilt swept through him, but he continued. "He said…that he's different now…that I _called_ him subconsciously, because we're in over our heads. He's a product of _my_ state of mind, so he may still be crazy and a little bit evil, but he's here to help. Nothing more, nothing less,"

Bakura knit his eyebrows, an expression of dissatisfaction upon his face, "And you did not stop to consider that he may be tricking you?"

"He's not."

Malik's response was immediate. He was sure of himself, absolutely and totally sure. Bakura had every right to be suspicious, but Malik knew where he stood.

"Remember that this is the very being that murdered your father, attempted to take the lives of your friends and families, and killed innocents without batting an eye." Bakura warned.

Malik met Bakura's eyes this time, hard and cold. "How is that any different from _you_, King of Thieves?"

Bakura scowled at the reminder to his deeds. "It is very different, you imbecilic child. The difference," He hissed, "Is that I shoulder the burden of every life I have ever taken, and every crime I have committed. Marik, however, kills without recollection nor remorse. He does not realize his actions, and that makes him extraordinarily dangerous. Lacking in conscience often makes up for lacking in skill or experience. Marik, as we both know, has no conscience whatsoever. It is not in his structure."

"So, you're basically saying that _you're_ human and _he's_ not."

"I'm saying that I _was_ human," Bakura corrected harshly, "Which is something that Marik has never been, nor ever will be."

Malik bit his lip. The spirit had a very good point.

_(I wish to speak with him.)_

_And how do you plan to do that?_

_(Bring him into your mind.) _Marik replied matter-of-factly. _(Malik-pretty shouldn't worry, Marik won't bite.)_

_And there he goes again with the switching back-and-forth between first and third person…_ Malik thought, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"You're speaking to him."

"Yes."

An expectant glare, "What is it?"

Malik hesitated, his eyebrows coming down in a 'v' shape. "Not a good idea." He murmured, and then looked up, "He wants to talk to you."

* * *

Malfoy glanced around, making sure to keep his back pressed firmly against the stone wall. He didn't want to be seen.

"This is so stupid…" He hissed under his breath. If only he'd just kept things simple, and followed the Dark Lord's wishes. Still, a treacherous little part of his mind told him that had he taken the 'easy way out', he'd have been left with an unsettled stomach and a hole in his heart.

He'd always been someone who practiced the art of avoiding mushy, idiotic, _Potter-like_ crap. Now look at him: he was turning into a complete and total softie…a good guy, even.

Survival would have been so much easier, so much likelier, had he walked in his father's footsteps.

_But he's a monster. Even my mother can't bring herself to meet his eyes anymore. Quite unlike Professor Snape, who's viewed as a hero by my mother…_

It was because Snape had saved his life, by carrying out the Dark Lord's wishes. Unbeknownst to all of the Death Eaters, Snape was loyal only to Dumbledore. Truly loyal, that is. He'd told Malfoy that a while ago, in an effort to make Malfoy change his ways.

It'd worked.

Malfoy gritted his teeth. Not only had he turned over, regrettably, a new leaf, he also was finding that the low-profile lifestyle was really not working out for him. Since he'd spent the previous six years at Hogwarts getting a healthy intake of attention, some of which he demanded himself, avoiding attention was only pulling him further into the limelight.

He sort of understood Potter's whole desire to be left alone, now, and it pissed him right off that he could even relate to the bespectacled, lightning-scarred idiot.

"Ridiculous," He muttered, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. He didn't want to have anything in common with Harry _Potter_. It was just…unfathomable. It was bad enough that he was now playing the role of some messed up hero sidekick to Ryou and Malik. He didn't want to add on top of that: 'I am slowly beginning to turn into a carbon copy of Harry Potter, the stupid, pompous little boy-who-lived.'

God, he hated Potter.

Glancing back to make sure that he wasn't being followed; Malfoy turned the corner and prowled down the hallway. He had to find Malik and Ryou. The two…er…three of them, counting Bakura, had become his partners in crime, and Malfoy was going to damn well make sure that he knew what he was in for.

Malfoy was going to let them know that if he couldn't trust them, he'd have no trouble abandoning ship.

He wasn't far from their room.

He had skipped class, claiming that he was feeling quite sick, and needed to visit the Hospital Wing for some medicine. The professor, being quite meek, had sent him off with a quiet 'come back to class if you can, Mr. Malfoy'. One sneer in her direction had made her swallow the words, and assure him that taking the rest of the period off may be more beneficial to his health.

Malfoy reached their dorm, and stopped just short of knocking. His fist was raised to the wooden door, but he hesitated at the last minute. He was hearing noises…a scuffle?

"_Please, Bakura, listen to-"_ The sound of choking, _"-me!"_

"_Give me one good reason, Malik? How do I know that this isn't Yami no Malik…?"_

Malfoy blinked, confused by the exchange of dialogue between the two. _What the heck is a Yami no Malik? Is this another one of their stupid nicknames?_

Malfoy was, suddenly, wondering just how much he didn't know about his accomplices. They were truly complete strangers to him. Not one solitary bit of gossip had any bearing on the truth about them. Malfoy knew that. Sure, he used to find rumors quite fun, but he knew what was true and what wasn't. Those two didn't give anything out. Not one single thing.

He could hear their voices, inside the room, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. There were more sounds, like they were still moving around, but the noise had died down a bit. Were they done fighting?

"_How is that different from _you_, King of Thieves?" _It was Malik.

_King of Thieves? Another nickname…?_ Malfoy sighed. Jeez, this was starting to get out of hand. He could hear who he assumed was Bakura reply to Malik's words.

"Idiots," Malfoy whispered. Well, if they were going to just _fight,_ then _he'd_ just let himself in.

The door wasn't locked. How stupid could the two of them get? Malfoy had assumed that they'd be smart enough not to leave their door unlocked, should unwanted visitors (such as him, at the time) get inside and hear something incriminating.

The door swung open.

"He wants to talk to you."

They didn't notice him. Bakura had Malik pinned against the wall, and there was a nice little dent in the wall beside Malik's head. He watched as they grasped forearms, and closed their eyes in sync.

"Hello?" Malfoy queried, "I'm standing right here, you know." He walked forwards. They still didn't clue in. What, was he not there, or something?

He lifted a hand, "Hey, Bakura," He snapped, and placed the hand onto the white-haired boy's shoulder.

Electricity sparked and crackled between them, and Malfoy volleyed forwards, straight through Bakura, and into shadow.

"_Tomb Robber," It was a voice that he did not recognize. "Marik is glad to see you."_

"_Third person…?" The harsh voice of Bakura mocked, "Honestly?"_

"_Why are you here?" A softer voice, one that sounded like Ryou, demanded. He still couldn't see through the haze, so he couldn't be sure to whom the voices belonged._

"_Why else would Marik be here?" The foreign voice cackled, and Malfoy caught an undertone of it that sounded similar to Malik's._

_Wait. Malik…Marik. Were they the same person? What, did he have Multiple Personality disorder or something? Like Ryou did?_

"_He's here to help." This voice was definitely Malik. "I told you that, Bakura."_

_Malfoy pushed himself up, steadying his body. He glanced around. Mist…mist everywhere. What was this?_

_The ground beneath him was sand, and to the trained eye, one could see it was moving around his feet. How odd._

"_Marik's 'help' is a death wish." The Bakura-voice hissed coldly. Maniacal laughter followed suit._

"_Very true, Not-So-Successful-Avenger! Very, very true!"_

"_Shut up!" Bakura roared. "Don't you dare speak of me as if you know anything about me." The killer intent was rolling off of him in waves, and though Malfoy couldn't see him, he could imagine just how mad he was._

_The hysterical laughter resumed._

_Malfoy stumbled forwards, through the mist, towards the voices. He didn't know whether he really wanted to intrude upon the odd argument between the four voices. It seemed much, much more violent than anything he wanted to be involved in, especially when it came to Malik and Ryou._

_The mist cleared, somewhat, as he stepped forwards, and he found himself staring into the oddest scene he could imagine. Two of Ryou and two of Malik stood, on opposite sides, facing one another off. _

_One Ryou had soft brown eyes, and was standing in a tense, but not threatening position. He appeared more fearful than angry. _

_The second Ryou was much different. His hair was wilder, and so was his face. His hair was shorter, and seemed to take on a more purplish hue than the first Ryou's. His skin was tanned, as if he were Egyptian, and a horrible, jagged scar ran down past one of his blood red eyes._

_The second Ryou, Malfoy assumed, was Bakura. The eyes had tipped him off on that._

_Then there was the two Maliks. The first was the same as Malik always looked. He looked annoyed, but also a little wary of the being standing beside him. _

_The second Malik was the one that he didn't recognize. His hair stuck up at all angles, and he was standing very casually, appearing completely at ease within the altercation. What made Malfoy uneasy, more so, were his eyes. They weren't red like Bakura's. In fact, they were very similar to Malik's violet irises, the only difference being they were a little darker. The eyes looked…chaotic, though. There was no judgment, no common sense…no _comprehension_ within those eyes. They were misty, like Luna's, only the mist seemed much more foreboding and out-of-place…evil, almost._

_Malfoy shifted backwards, hoping to move out of the radar of those horrifying eyes, when he found them focused on him. _

_All four sets of eyes were focused on him, mixtures of four different emotions. Total shock, from Ryou. Slight alarm from Malik. Bakura's were filled with rage, with an overlay of surprise. The crazy, horrible eyes of the other one, however, appeared amused. He didn't really seem to care at all._

"_Idiot…" Bakura hissed, his eyes narrowed and glittering with anger._

"_What are you doing here?" Ryou whispered, stepping away from him slightly. This was the first time that Malfoy had ever seen both Ryou and Bakura at the same time, and the differences between them were uncanny. _

_They were almost complete opposites, he speculated._

"_Marik welcomes you!" The monster greeted, throwing his arms open with glee. He suddenly shifted, curiosity spreading across his face, "But how did you get here, Marik wonders."_

"_W-was that a question, or was that rhetorical?" Malfoy queried, disgusted when he detected a slight stutter within his voice. Since when did he get intimidated?_

"_It was a question, you silly little snake-boy!" _

_Malfoy winced at the nickname. "I touched Bakura, and I ended up here." There. Simple, to-the-point, and proved that his arrival was completely accidental. _

"_How did you get into our room?" Malik asked, speaking for the first time since Malfoy revealed his arrival._

"_The door was unlocked."_

_Marik, or so Malfoy had heard the maniacal blonde terror to have been dubbed, clapped his hands. "How cute, that the door was coincidentally left unlocked for dear Draco Malfoy to happen upon us!" The words were spoken with a very snarky undertone._

"_Shut up, you abomination." Bakura snapped, the cruelty making Malfoy almost wince._

_Marik grinned at the spirit, his lip curling with monstrous, evil glee._

_Bakura lunged forwards, but was caught by Ryou, who appeared to be quite stronger than he appeared to the casual seer. "I'm going to kill you, you patronizing, pathetic excuse for a darker half!"_

_This time, the cruelty did make Malfoy wince. It was obvious that Bakura hated this twisted Malik-clone with a passion._

"_Yami, please…!" Ryou cried. He was evidently struggling with holding the other white-haired young man back._

_Malfoy threw his hands up in the air, "Now there's 'Yami'? What the bloody hell is with all of these stupid nicknames?"_

_Marik stopped egging Bakura on, and turned to face Malfoy fully. "You don't know of our accursed predicament?" He queried softly._

"_Of course not," Malfoy drawled, putting his hands on his hips in irritation._

"_Well, you see," Marik began, "When naughty little thief-puppies bite the hand that feeds them, then they're killed! No matter what games he planned for the Pharaoh, the dream world lies of the true outcome of sandy pasts!"_

_Bakura glared, his face contorted into something decidedly vicious, "Don't you speak another word, Marik."_

"_Yes, but you're a naughty little thief who took refuge in a ring! Jewelry caught the eye of a simple man, and he brought it home for his son! You controlled him, you controlled him! Oh, Tomb Robber, you naughty thief!"_

"_I said SHUT UP!" Bakura roared, heaving forwards and pulling Ryou straight off of his feet. The young man, in blind surprise, toppled over Bakura, bringing the other male down with him._

_Malik turned to Marik, "Enough." He commanded, soft but stern. "Draco doesn't need to be hearing this." He turned his gaze directly to the blonde, "I made the mistake of telling you far too much when we met. Keep your curiosity to yourself. We're not a force to be dissected and examined by the likes of you."_

"_What?" Bakura queried. Apparently he did not know of this._

_Malik glanced at Bakura. "It was the night that Voldemort revealed that he had Ryou's father." At this, Ryou visibly flinched and hugged himself. "When I dragged you, Bakura, back to our room…well, you'd left the mind link open. I was feeling just as disoriented, drained, and pained as you were, if not by anything other than the direct link. Malfoy asked questions. I was too drunk with tiredness to differentiate what was and what wasn't appropriate to tell the nosy little bugger."_

_Malfoy huffed, offended to have been referred to so openly as a 'nosy little bugger'. He decided to add to the explanation. "He only told me of your magic and how it functions. That it's killing you."_

_Bakura barked out laughter at this, "Killing _me_? If you must know of us, you human brat, I am already dead as a doornail."_

"_A spirit, then." Malfoy replied, examining the beds of his fingernails in an effort to remain nonchalant. "You possess Ryou?"_

"_Not quite." Bakura retorted. "Ryou is my incarnation, a recreation of, a 21__st__ century _me_."_

"_Please, Draco." Ryou begged quietly, ensnaring Malfoy with his sad brown eyes. "Don't get involved in our affairs any more than you have to. Trust us for what we can tell you, don't distrust us for what we can't."_

"_The world that we live in," Malik mused. "No, the path that we, us specifically, have taken…" He hesitated, and glanced up at Malfoy. "If you must know, _we_ are the Voldemorts of our own world. _We_ are the villains. _We_ are the ones who kidnap, betray, and kill. Evil? Not so much, anymore. Reformed? Barely."_

"_We're dangerous, Draco." Ryou mumbled desolately, rubbing his hands together._

"_And if we're to be allies?" Draco challenged, "What then? Am I supposed to defend complete and utter strangers who tell me that they're monsters?"_

_Ryou stepped towards him. Malfoy didn't move, just glared. "I promise, that if it comes to it, and if we all have to give up everything together, then we will tell you anything." His eyes appeared misty, unfocused._

"_He's having a psychic moment." Bakura muttered under his breath, yet it still echoed in their foggy clearing. At Malfoy's curious glance, Bakura divulged. "He's seeing some snippet of the future. Comes with the territory of sharing a body with a spirit of the past: gives him a little insight of the future…or at least the future I'm involved in."_

_Marik smiled, and walked towards Ryou, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Ryou instantly came out of the little reverie…or future…or whatever. His head snapped up to Marik, his eyes wide and huge. They rolled into the back of his head and he crumpled to the ground, unmoving. _

_Malfoy and Malik both jumped with shock, but Bakura was instantly at his body-sharer's side. "What did you do to him?" Bakura demanded, rolling Ryou onto his back. The boy appeared to only be sleeping, his breath deep and regulated._

_Marik shrugged, "I showed him the truth."_

"_What truth?"_

"_Marik's truth!" _

_Malik was down beside Ryou also, and gave Bakura a reassuring nod. "He's just fainted. Marik must have sent him some thoughts or memories, explaining why and how he's here."_

"_Since Bakura the Unsuccessful Avenger won't listen to Marik, Marik must show his lighter half!" Marik declared gleefully, "But don't worry your snowy head, Bakura, he's fine!"_

_Bakura gave Malik what Malfoy deciphered to be a 'we'll talk later' look, and stood up, leaving Ryou on the ground. "This conversation is over." Bakura said finally._

"_You remain unconvinced." Marik pointed out, with a pout that looked creepy and out of place on his face. _

"_Of course I do, you malignant little bastard." Bakura replied cheerfully, but the underlying venom was all-too-obvious. "I'm still sore about our duel, so many months ago."_

_Marik laughed, not far off from a child-like giggle, and waved a hand. Their misty clearing began to spin, contorting into a mess of splotchy colours and varying degrees of darkness. _

Malfoy jerked up, a hand flying to his head. A sharp jolt of pain ran through his skull. How pleasant. He'd gone face-first into the stone floor of Malik and Bakura's lodgings.

"Need a hand?" Malik queried, offering his tanned one out to Malfoy. Malfoy accepted it, and let the Egyptian haul him up.

"What was that?" Malfoy demanded, rubbing his injured head gingerly. "It felt like my first apparition."

"For us, it was something of the equivalent," Malik explained, looking amused. "Just be glad you didn't puke up your intestines."

"I'll count my blessings." Malfoy replied monotonously. Then, he turned to Bakura. "What do you want?"

Bakura had been staring at him with bitter scrutiny since Malfoy had woken up. "You may never speak of anything you heard today, or what you heard the first time we met. You've got some dangerous information, mortal. Keep your head about it."

"What if I've already told the Dark Lord about what I heard 'that first time'?" Malfoy challenged, more to see what the response would be like. He hadn't, obviously, but he still wanted to confront Bakura head on.

Bakura's face split into a menacing smile, "You haven't." He said, with utmost certainty, "And you're going to swear on your worthless little life that you won't."

"How will you ensure that?"

Bakura's smile turned enigmatic. "A little dark magic of my own." He touched two fingers to Malfoy's head. The young blonde didn't stir, or jump away from the touch. He wanted to prove himself to these two. He wouldn't be a coward. Not anymore. Never again.

Electricity sparked between them again, when they made contact. This time, however, Malfoy wasn't propelled into another world. He didn't feel a thing, actually.

"What did you do?" The blonde boy queried curiously, bringing his own fingers to his forehead once Bakura had drawn away.

"I wanted to test," Bakura explained, "Whether I could access some of my weaker magic now. Apparently I can." A pleased light was evident in his eyes. "You cannot speak of our magic, not even what you hear later on, to anyone but ourselves or another affiliated with our power. That is absolute. Our magic does not have loopholes, so don't try to find one."

"I won't." Malfoy assured him. "I could care less to spend time pouring over ways to spill secrets that have nothing to do with me."

Bakura's expression turned grave. "Those secrets have more to do with you than you think." He warned.

Malfoy, somehow, couldn't bring any part of himself to doubt those words.

* * *

Malik plopped down onto the couch in their room. "Was that wise?"

"What?"

"To tell Malfoy so much? We still barely know the kid."

Bakura sat down also, touching a finger to his lips in pondering, simply out of habit. A wicked smirk flitted across his face. "When I used that magic," He said, "I saw a little into our dear comrade's soul. He has truly tired of Volde-bastard's ways. I'm sure he'll make a fine companion, should we need him in the future."

"We already knew that we'd need his help, Bakura." Malik pointed out, interlacing his fingers in his lap.

"I never denied that."

"Beg pardon?"

Bakura leaned back, "I never said that we wouldn't need his help. The only thing that was left to be decided, however, was whether he'd be _effective _or not."

"Ah."

"He will be." Bakura affirmed. Then, after a beat, his eyebrow creased with concern.

"What is it?"

Bakura met Malik's eyes. "What Ryou saw…"

"You saw it too?"

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"Not good." Bakura replied somberly, his sharp eyes half-lidded and almost appearing upset. "Nothing good."

"Death?"

"As is expected." Bakura responded immediately, fixing Malik with a deadpan look.

"I was asking _who_, Bakura. Not _if_."

"That is information I cannot divulge."

Malik cocked an eyebrow, "And why not?"

"Because the future is set. It's unchangeable. And what Ryou saw…he doesn't remember it."

"Why not?" Malik was getting irritated with asking the same question over and over.

"I blocked the memory from him."

Malik's eyes widened, all irritability lost to a newfound revelation. That only meant something very, very horrible. He bowed his head. "I see." He murmured, and tightened his grip on his hands.

_All things must come to an end…_

* * *

Malfoy rounded the corner, walking briskly and with a purpose. He just wanted to get back to his dorm, appearing as normal as ever, and collapse there. Collapse in private. He had to go fast, else he'd do the collapsing in the middle of the corridor, and that'd only attract unwanted attention.

His little visit with Malik, Bakura, Ryou, and the crazy Marik (whom Malfoy knew was directly connected to Malik somehow) had left him mentally and physically drained.

And on top of that…well…the _questions…_

_The questions they cannot answer._ He wanted to say that they 'refused', but that would be sugarcoating it. They were truly thinking that keeping him in the dark was beneficial to him.

_I wonder what Ryou meant by what he said… _Malfoy pondered, _"I promise, that if it comes to it, and if we all have to give up everything together, then we will tell you anything." Whatever did he mean by that?_

Give up everything…

Malfoy shuddered at the notion. If Ryou had truly had a 'psychic moment', as Bakura had so eloquently put it, then some very unfortunate things were about to happen.

And would happen soon, Malfoy reckoned.

He rounded another corner, and slammed straight into a wiry form with wispy blonde hair.

They both fell to the ground, books flying outwards and everywhere.

"What the-?" Malfoy almost-shouted as they hit the stone. "Watch it." He hissed.

"I do believe it was both of our faults." The girl answered, picking up her books slowly. "We should not have been walking so close to a corner. Such clichés are bound to happen when we do that."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "It's you."

"Hello, Draco Malfoy. I assumed you were not returning to school, or so the rumors said." She spoke the words with an airy smile, but Malfoy knew that she was making an attempt at filching information.

"A change of plans." Malfoy replied, equally as bluntly as she'd spoken her not-so-question.

"I see."

Malfoy hesitated.

She was involved with Dumbledore's Army. He knew it. He knew that they'd resumed activity this year, but in a professionally operative, much more covert way than two years ago. They were a _rebellion_ now, not just a group of kids learning spells.

He'd known to read between the lines of gossip. Malfoy wasn't stupid. He was above average in intelligence, and when he'd become suspicious, he'd known what to look for.

"I was looking for you," Malfoy lied. Oh well. The lie was so small, it was almost useless. Besides, he needed a bit of a cover story, right?

And he'd wanted to speak with her for a while, anyways.

She blinked. "Yes?"

"Luna Lovegood," Malfoy greeted calmly. Their eyes met. Sharp darkness met barely-there mistiness. "I've come to ask a favor."

End Chapter

Whoa! Update alert, update alert!

This was written pretty late at night (or the bulk of it, at least) so I apologize for any really stupid mistakes. Yeah.

Point those out in a review, please! I'll fix em'!

Review!


	17. Dumbledore's Army

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Well, to say that I'm just about peeing my pants with pleasure (zero eloquence) would be a total lie. No matter how dumb it may be, I do get very excited when I get reviews, and to have received this many…it's just…so wow. So, so very wow. And I've got all of you guys (points dramatically) to thank for it!

(Sniffles) I love you guys!!

I do want to apologize with the grammatical error (continuously) of: "He is," He said. I do realize that it SHOULD be "He is," he said. I'm SO sorry for that. The only problem is that I have sixteen chapters to sift through, and unless you guys want a three month hiatus (not exaggerating), I'm going to have to just fix it from here on, and cut my losses (and horrible form) for the previous chapters.

GRAWGH! (Grammar freak that didn't realize she was making that mistake...in every damn chapter.)

Disclaimer: Whoever owns Yu-Gi-Oh has excellent grammar. Unfortunately, as we know, that is most definitely NOT I…

Chapter Seventeen

Dumbledore's Army

It seemed like it was always the moon. The moon always managed to turn the earth into a marvelous, mysterious unknown world. Shadows moved in different ways at night, with the night sky as their backdrop and the moon as their magician.

The only fault he could see, as he stared out across the sparkling expanse of the lake that circulated most of Hogwarts, was that this was not the world that he knew.

The world that he knew was the sand beneath his feet, not grass. The world that he knew was a vast span of dunes and red nothingness. The sun was always beautiful, in Egypt, but the moon was always simply magical.

He couldn't help but miss Egypt. It was the setting of his stage, the place that had always been his one thing truthful. He'd never had anything else, really. Not while he was alive.

"Yami…?"

His eyes snapped to the young man beside him. The moon had changed him, also. His white hair had a supernatural sheen, and his skin glowed pure white under the moonlight.

"Are you okay?" The child asked him, his hair falling like a veil to obscure his face.

It was peaceful, he decided. That was why everything seemed pleasant to him. The peacefulness and the nostalgia that the moon brought to him were calming him.

He couldn't really find it in him to mind, though.

_"I'm fine,"_ he answered, his eyes moving back to the water.

Ryou smiled, his hand sliding rhythmically through the cool, dew-kissed grass. "You seem happy." He commented quietly.

"_Do I…?" _Bakura queried, smirking at the notion. He hadn't been happy in centuries and centuries.

Ryou nodded absently, even though Bakura's words were more rhetorical than anything.

"_It's just peacefulness." _

Ryou glanced to the side, tucking his hair behind one ear so that he could properly see his other half. "That's all?"

"_Yes." _Bakura replied immediately, _"that's it."_

"I see."

_"Does that bother you?"_

Ryou looked up, meeting Bakura's translucent ruby eyes. As expected, there was no discernable emotion within his eyes. Ryou could rarely see anything. They were like empty pools of blood. Only sometimes could he see flickers of real emotion.

"Not really."

"_Your emotions say otherwise."_

"You're the closest person I have," Ryou replied softly, "of course your unhappiness makes me-"

Bakura cut him off with a sharp motion, fisting his hand in the air, as if he were grabbing at something invisible. He did not look at Ryou, _"and your father…?"_ He asked gruffly.

Ryou smiled weakly, "I love him. But…"

"_I know."_

There were really no words necessary. Bakura knew exactly what the 'but' meant.

He really shouldn't have been bringing up Ryou's father. The strain of not knowing his health or well-being was taking its toll on Ryou both mentally and physically. The lack of sleep was beginning to show on the boy's face, in the form of dark shadows and hollow cheeks. His eyes, also, appeared flat and unfocused, like he couldn't quite grasp reality in its entirety.

Bakura shouldn't have been throwing that in his light's face. Ryou didn't need that.

"It's fine."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Ryou's face, and Bakura grinned too. It was always an interesting experience, no matter how long they'd been doing it, to share a body. They often answered one another's thoughts instead of words, and had grown close enough that they could tell the other's feelings about something simply based on intuition.

It was scary, really, how close their minds had wired to one another. It was like they were merging, to the point that one day they wouldn't be able to separate themselves…

Bakura knew that wouldn't happen. After all, they were 'compatible' because they balanced each other. He was the darkness to Ryou's light, yin and yang, two halves. Apart, they were only half a puzzle. Together, they were complete.

He stretched his insubstantial hand out in front of his face, so that he could examine it. _"My fate," _he mused, _"as one of the dead has been far more fruitful and alive than my time amongst the mortals."_

Ryou appeared surprised at the statement. "Yami…?"

_"Mm…?"_

His concerned expression shifted and blossomed into a relaxed smile. "Nothing," he murmured softly, his eyes cast to the water. "Never mind."

Their usual companionable silence descended, and the night continued on. It would be daybreak soon, Bakura realized.

He always used to watch the sunset, back in Egypt. Back when he was alive.

"Hey, Yami?" Ryou began, restarting the conversation between them. "Do you…" He trailed off, somehow unable to continue.

_"Yes?"_

"Do you want to go to Egypt?" Ryou queried softly. "After this is all done, I mean?"

Bakura glanced up in surprise at the boy's suggestion. He really had never thought about visiting Egypt again. It just…hadn't ever crossed his mind. The prospect that Egypt had changed since his departure had always sparked a little bit of dread in his mind. Perhaps Egypt had become something that he didn't want to let go of, for fear that it had been irreversibly altered along with the rest of the world.

Ryou took Bakura's long hesitation, and his shocked expression, as a 'no'. "W-We don't have to. I was just thinking that-"

_"I'd like to go."_ Bakura decided, making Ryou jump from having been cut off so abruptly. He nodded to himself, a motion of his finality on the subject. _"I want to see how different it is."_

"It's not that different." Ryou assured him. "Only the cities."

_"Yes,"_ Bakura replied calmly, his brow creasing as a shadow of his previous dilemma, _"but that's only from what you know, or what I've shown you. The world experiences many change in five millennia, Ryou. I cannot make myself deny that fact."_

"Okay."

He didn't know why he was so worked up over something so unchangeable.

He just supposed that he was seeking things to fret about and ways to get their situation off of his mind.

Everything that they'd hope would happen hadn't happened. Their powers were barely returning, still so weak that only the simplest of tasks, possible even to an amateur Shadow User, were strenuous. Bakura hadn't shown it outwardly, but the task of sealing Draco Malfoy's knowledge of them and their abilities had been so hard on him that he still hadn't recovered.

That didn't bode well. Not for any of them. Ryou still couldn't even contact the Shadows, and Malik could touch them, but not entirely grasp them enough to use their power.

"So, this is where you two got off to."

Both males turned to see Malik standing behind them, his arms crossed and a wide grin on his face. His cheeks appeared hollow and his eyes a little sunken, just like Ryou. Perhaps with a little less worry over family members, as his had successfully escaped, but he was exhausted nonetheless.

_"What?"_ Bakura remarked snidely, turning his back to Malik, deeming him unimportant. _"Couldn't sleep?"_

"Not really, no." The Tomb Keeper answered, "what about you two, huh? A little insomnia all around, it seems."

_"We wanted to see the lake at night."_

"Bullshit."

_"We wanted to watch the sunrise."_

"Still bullshit."

_"We wanted some alone time?"_

"To what? Get it on?"

Ryou reeled back, his face bright red with shock and embarrassment. Bakura sputtered out a horrified 'hell no', and leapt to his feet.

_"Because that would definitely work between a spirit and a living being!"_ Bakura exclaimed, throwing his hands up to the heavens. Where the hell did Malik come up with that crap, anyways? Did it just pop into his head?

Malik snorted, but he appeared pleased with the reaction he'd roused. "So you're _not_ going to deny your homosexual tendencies towards Ryou."

_"I prefer women, you stupid mortal."_ Bakura ground out, _"and besides, in my time, homosexuality was nothing to sneer at. Even _Pharaohs_ often kept males whom they bedded at whim."_

"Never claimed to have a problem with homosexuality," Malik commented, flipping a finger up to demonstrate his point, "but that still doesn't change the fact that it took you far too long to deny your obvious want to tap Ryou."

"Malik!"

Bakura rolled his eyes. _"Must you always be so derogatory?"_

"Yeah. So?"

_"So, it exhibits your obvious lack of intelligence when you can't maintain conversation without falling into_ perverse _idiocy_."

"You're speaking in words I cannot understand. Please leave a message at the beep."

The spirit plopped back down onto the grass, exasperated. _"You prove my point."_

"It's more fun that way."

Malik plopped down beside Bakura.

They fell silent. Ryou was finally relaxing after Malik's horrifying bout of teasing, and Bakura was refreshingly _annoyed._ Well, there went his good mood.

"No, really," Malik said, "why are you guys out here?"

_"You stated the reason well enough initially."_ Bakura grumbled, casting an irritated glare at the Egyptian male._ "We couldn't sleep."_

"So, that's 'we' meaning both of you?"

_"What the hell else should it mean?"_

Malik shrugged.

_"Evidently your brain is functioning at a lower productivity rate than usual due to your own lack of sleep, Malik."_ Bakura jeered in a low tone, very peeved that Malik had ruined his moment of peacefulness. It'd come so rarely in his lifetime and afterlife. He always wanted to appreciate it to its fullest when he had it.

Malik's eyebrow ticked. "You do the big word thing on purpose, don't you? You're trying to make me feel dumb."

_"I don't need to 'try', Malik. You do a fine job on your own."_

"Must we argue?" Ryou cried in utter exasperation. "I'm sick of it, frankly."

"Fine, then."

_"Whatever."_

The silence resumed. It was tense, though, nothing like the silences between Bakura and Ryou.

"Hey, when do you think the sun's going to rise?"

Bakura sighed.

_"Malik…?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Shut up."_

* * *

Luna carefully pushed the doors to the Room of Requirement open, closing it quietly behind her. It was dark inside, with only the dim light through a foggy window casting a vague sheen across the floor.

The sun had risen not an hour ago. It didn't help, really. That fact mixed with the darkness of the room still provided for poor lighting.

Luna hadn't slept.

From the looks of the figure sprawled out on one of the luxurious satin couches, Luna figured that sleeplessness had gone all around.

Perhaps it was just a daunting feeling, an instinct in the backs of everyone's minds that something bad was looming upon the horizon.

When Luna really thought about it, though, with the prospect of war always imminent, it was a wonder that anyone had slept a wink all year.

She carefully approached the figure, whom she had originally assumed was asleep. He had a pillow over his face as if he were sleeping, but the irregular pattern of his breathing stated otherwise.

"So this is where you've been hiding lately." She greeted quietly, sitting down on the coffee table beside the couch.

He startled up, the pillow falling to reveal disheveled hair and clothes, and a face that said he had definitely _not_ been sleeping lately. "Luna!" He exclaimed, bringing a hand up to his head in a gesture of surprise.

She smiled at him. "Good morning, Neville."

"You too," he replied, more out of unconscious courtesy than conscious effort. "And why are _you_ here?"

"I was looking for you." She answered simply, tugging at the charm she'd woven into her hair the night before.

"What is that?"

Luna looked up at him, and realized that he was staring at her charm. She gave him a wan smile, "It's a good luck charm. They say that it will bring Wollyknockers to you. They give good luck, you know. I figured I ought to need it, considering the times."

"Oh," Neville said, nodding absently, "I see."

"Did either of them find you, yet?" Luna asked. She had to get down to business. It was only hours away from their meeting with the reformed DA, and also when they revealed their new allies.

She couldn't decide whether that sick sensation in her stomach was her worrying too much or a justified bad feeling.

_Well,_ she thought to herself, _I suppose that I'm just going to have to wait and see. I always _have_ quite liked surprises…_

"Yeah," Neville answered, vaguely amused. "Ryou did."

"Oh. Yes. He's the nice one."

"I beg your pardon?"

Luna blinked slightly, but continued, "they're both seemingly good people, it's just Malik comes off a little rough around the edges. Well, so does Ryou…sometimes. I wondered if there was two of him, for a while. I was going to ask him if he'd come into contact with any Snorkles. They tend to split a person into two people, so I was curious about that. But it seems that he's fairly nice. I don't care think about it much. It's not really my business."

Neville appeared a little concerned over her words. He really shouldn't have been. Luna was almost positive that Ryou hadn't come into contact with a Snorkle, and was just experiencing an average teenager identity crisis.

One where he couldn't decide whether or not to be a calculating, sarcastic, bloodthirsty murderer over a quiet, simple, wonderfully ordinary boy; but still an average identity crisis nonetheless.

Luna really felt no desire to judge. When it came to being a student at Hogwarts, such odd things were really more commonplace that one would think. Besides, what was life without oddities?

If it weren't for the exceptionally out-of-the-ordinary, then her father would have no Quibbler to write. After all, he lived to show the world these remarkably peculiar things.

"But you're still convinced," Neville said slowly, dragging out the sentence.

"Of what…?"

He stared at her with an intensity that he often reserved for the Carrows. It was his warrior's stare, his leader's stare, "that they'll prove helpful."

"If we humor them properly, then yes." Luna smiled, "though they've made it quite clear that they are not in this for anyone but themselves."

"Yeah, I sort of figured that." Neville stood up, walking a few paces, his fingers trailing along the row of books on the bookshelf beside him.

Luna watched as he pulled out a book, glanced at the title, and returned it back to its place. Neville didn't face her. He was trying to keep his wits about him, and Luna knew that she was among the few people who could sway his opinion. Well, nowadays, at least. It was only recently that Neville hardened himself enough so that he could steel his gaze and firm up his views. He was almost unswayable. Almost.

"They're dangerous."

She cocked her head to the side, "how so?"

Neville bit his lip, taking out another book and examining its title. This one, he flipped to the back, skimming the blurb. Apparently uninterested, he returned this one to its place also. "Ryou…when he spoke to me…it was almost like he was _warning_ me that with them, things would prove dangerous."

"It _is_ a war, Neville." Luna pointed out, moving to sit on the considerably more comfortable sofa. "No one ever said war would be gentle."

Neville's eyebrows pushed together, a sure sign that he was fairly frustrated. "I _know_, Luna, okay? Ryou did say to me, though, that they have _no_ loyalties to us. Even if they say that they _hate_ Voldemort, which I probably shouldn't trust, he _said _that they're not loyal to us."

"And would you rather he lied to you?" Luna challenged mildly, picking up a flower that had materialized for her on the cushion beside her. "The fact that he's being brutally honest should be a sure sign that we can trust him."

"I don't want to."

"You _did_ show him the Room of Requirement."

Neville opened his mouth to retort, and then stopped dead. He turned around to face her fully, staring at her with gaping shock. "How did you know that?" He exclaimed.

She spun the flower in between two fingers. "I followed you." She admitted, not really appearing concerned for her actions at all. "I had to make sure that it went as smoothly as possible. It's not just your neck on the line, Neville."

There it was: the flickering exposure of Luna's aggressive side, the part of her that would fight for what she wanted. Neville didn't appear surprised. He'd been at the barrel-end of this particular facet of Luna's personality multiple times in recent weeks.

"I know, Luna." His voice was softer, now. "I know."

She'd already snapped out of the aggressiveness, and moved towards him to place a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Neville," she said quietly, "you're doing brilliantly." With that, she turned on her heel and walked to the door.

Luna glanced at him, over her shoulder. Her smile would have seemed almost coy, had Neville not known that she was really just teasing him. "We really should prepare for the meeting."

Those words having been said, she slipped out of the Room of Requirement, leaving Neville standing alone.

* * *

Neville had been waiting for them. After making sure that no one was following them, he gestured towards the door.

"I haven't prepared them for this. I figured we ought to do it like a band-aid." Neville explained sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that commonly displayed nervousness. Neville seemed to be a walking, talking bundle of nerves.

"Luna's inside, by the way." Neville continued, "she'll try to help it along as best as she can."

"Good." Malik muttered, "Because otherwise, we're going to have a repeat of downtown London. I can see it."

Neville glanced at Malik with an expression of incomprehension. He didn't have a clue what Malik had just referred to.

Ryou did, and he didn't want a repeat of _that _particular night any more than Malik wanted it.

Neville just shrugged off the weirdness, which was probably the best thing the poor boy could do, and pushed the doors open. He indicated for them to step inside, and then quickly resealed the doors.

The silence, aside from a few guffaws and noises of complete disbelief, was completely petrifying.

"Neville," a young girl with caramel coloured skin whimpered, "what have you done?"

Apparently, he'd done something unfathomably horrible.

The staring continued.

Ryou shifted nervously, unable to meet the piercing gazes of the students occupying the Room of Requirement.

This had been such a bad idea.

Malik, had he heard, would have likely agreed.

Bakura, having heard, _did _agree.

"I know that you are probably quite confused about this." Neville Longbottom began, his voice a little shaky, indicating the two boys beside him, "but this is for a very good reason. Contrary to what we believed, these two are _not _His followers." He sounded completely unsure of what he was doing.

What a way to begin…

"Yes they are!" A young man, Michael Corner, as Neville had addressed him earlier, shouted.

"They are not!" Neville shouted over him. "I've spoken with them myself!"

The other boy went silent for a moment, before regaining his stride.

"That means nothing." Michael hissed, more hate in his voice that one would expect from a sheltered youngling such as him.

"They saved my life."

Attention swiftly shifted to Luna.

"What?" A young girl, one they'd seen with Neville before, queried. She tucked a few strands of her black hair behind one ear. "Luna, what do you mean?"

"I was attacked by a vampire in the Forbidden Forest," Luna explained, "and they saved my life. They didn't realize who I was, nor that I was affiliated with the DA at the time." She fixed the angry boy, Michael, with an even, very chilly stare. "What do you have to say to that, Michael?"

He opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again. His face was red with embarrassment at having been shot down so bluntly.

"I trust them." She said. It was her way of finalizing her view on their presence. A few students murmured around her, as if she'd done something horrible, like murdering a fellow classmate before their eyes.

To them, in a sense, she'd kind of screwed over them all. After all, she might as well have sworn fealty to the two boys standing there. Luna had stated, quite plainly, that she was going to gamble.

And she'd be taking all of their safety, and their secrecy, along with her. This was their rebellion, after all. This was all that a group of teenaged students could do.

"I trust them too." Neville added with a nod, his expression firm. "And I think that we should do what we condemn _Him_ for never doing: we should give them a chance."

Ryou was surprised. He hadn't expected Neville to be so on their side. He'd expected Neville to play referee, not pick a side so…straightforwardly.

"This is a war, Neville," the Michael kid pleaded in a semi-broken voice, "don't make us do something that'll get us killed."

Some of the kids looked at Michael like he'd just said something incredibly stupid.

"This is war, mate." A boy said. The sarcasm in his voice was more than plentiful. In fact, it had Bakura snickering with laughter at the back of Ryou's mind.

Well, so much for seriousness.

Malik agreed with the boy, "He's right. Either way, at least one of you guys is going to die. At _least_ one of you, but probably most of you. It's a war. What do you expect?"

Attention immediately swung back to the two 'prefects'. Hostility levels in the room rose leaps and bounds. Ryou shifted uncomfortably again.

"We have a lot at stake here," Malik continued, "probably just as much as you do. I'm not going to pretend like I trust you, just like you don't have to pretend to trust the two of us. Regardless of that, we have to work together. We have a lot to offer you. We have abilities that could propel this kids group into a serious force to contend with. What do you have to lose?"

"You could be feeding our work to the Carrows," Another boy snapped, "or worse, to You-Know-Who himself."

It was a valid point.

"Yeah," Malik quipped brazenly, "I _do_ know who. And you know what? First chance I get, I'm going to kill him. Or try my damn best to."

More murmurs amongst the small crowd of students. Some gasps. Malik's pure audacity was one of their strongest weapons at that point.

"_We are never telling him to filter his mouth. Never again."_

_- Agreed. -_

"What about you?" A young woman with red hair and wise eyes that said she was far more experienced than her age gave away stepped forwards. She'd spoken directly to Ryou. "How do you plan to fight him?"

"I plan for exactly what Malik is." Ryou answered quietly, meeting the girl's deep eyes. "He's got my father hostage."

"It's true." Luna interjected, and the murmurs intensified.

Some of the girls expressed their sympathies by gasping and hugging one another. Apparently the loss of a family member was fairly commonplace here.

"Look," Ryou said, trying to voice the jumble that had become his mind. "I know that you think we're evil. If I were in your position, I'd be thinking the same thing. It's just…" he nodded to himself, before continuing, "it's just that sometimes you need to follow your gut, not your head. My gut's telling me to help you. It's telling me that that's the only way I'll have a shot at saving my father. You-Know-Who has been dangling his life over my head since he first caught us, and I have to remove that threat. Otherwise, I can't be fully capable of directly fighting Him."

The room went silent. A pin could have dropped, and it would have sounded like a trumpet.

"I don't trust you," Michael almost-whispered. His hands were balled into fists at his sides. "I never _will_ trust you. Don't make that mistake again."

"We never made the mistake in the first place." Malik replied, baring his teeth at the vicious young man in the group. He certainly was a bitter one.

Then again, almost all of them were bitter in some way.

"You said that you had 'abilities'," The red-haired girl began, and then cut herself off. She blinked, like she'd lost her train of thought. That was when a smile broke on her face, one that pulled at Ryou's heartstrings. "I'm Ginny, by the way."

_- She's going to make a wonderful mother one day. – _The young man thought to his other half with a solemnity that spoke more volumes than the simple statement portrayed.

Bakura wanted to say something, but felt that noting was really adequate. Ryou was recognizing the figure of a mother within a woman so young…simply because he had none. It was something that Ryou often did. He foresaw a kind mother in Anzu, the Pharaoh's cheerleader, also. Perhaps that was why Ryou avoided her more pointedly than the others.

"Malik," Malik greeted, giving the girl a pleasant grin of his own, "And that's Ryou."

"I know," She answered, directing a slightly more hesitant smile to Malik. She was, apparently, just as wary as the others were. Probably for good reason. "Anyways, when you said 'abilities', did you mean that you have a different kind of magic than us? You certainly haven't used any spells since coming here."

"We can't use your magic." Ryou was the one who responded. "It's dangerous for us. We _do_ have other magic, but we can't use it right-"

"So how in the world are you useful to us?" The Michael kid snapped, crossing his arms. "You're basically saying that you cowards need _our_ help."

"_Give me control. I'll teach this brat."_

_- Don't give us a bad name, please. – _Ryou begged, but relinquished control nonetheless. Somehow he still had a feeling that Bakura would teach Michael a lesson that was not too nice.

"We're more useful than you," Malik hissed, his knuckles popping with the strength of his grip. A few kids winced at the sound.

Michael snorted, too wound up in his ego to really notice the threat, "Bull. I've got plenty of experience with magic. I can take on a Death Eater all my own. What can _you _do, _muggle_?"

Everyone saw, with growing horror, as the knife flashed. Some students gasped as Bakura, thought to be Ryou, drew it from his pocket. The spirit ran at the Michael boy, who was too shocked to move, and used his free arm to topple the young man to the ground, pinning him. The weapon was at his throat in an instant. "Don't think that just because I can't use magic right now that it doesn't mean I couldn't kill you." His voice was soft, like he was gently scolding a child. Only Malik could detect the true mockery behind Bakura's tone. "You didn't even manage to draw your wand in time, before I managed to nearly _slit_ your _throat."_

"Y-You wouldn't." The boy stuttered. At this point, even _he_ knew that there was no contest. Very few could compare to Bakura's cunning and skill.

Bakura smirked coldly, straightening to stand over the boy. "I didn't," he made a show of licking the blade. It was a bad habit he'd acquired back in his thievery days. He'd use it to scare hostages and other victims of his handiwork. "but I could."

Michael scrambled out from under the spirit, his eyes wide and horrified. "What the bloody hell _are_ you?"

"Nothing you'd understand." Most of the kids noticed as the vibrant red eyes faded to a gentler brown hue. His voice was lighter, too, when he next spoke. Ryou was in control again. "But we are not your enemies."

"Then what-?"

"We can't answer anything about us." Malik said shortly, "But you can rest easy knowing that we offer our loyalty through this war."

Ginny, one of the few who hadn't appeared completely terrified, stepped forward. "I'll trust you." She said strongly, clasping her hands tightly. She was evidently going against her better judgment.

Neville stood up to his full height, stepping into the center of the room to command attention. "Now," he called to the students talking around him. Everyone went silent, to hear what their makeshift leader had to say, " does anyone else have a problem with Ryou and Malik?"

* * *

"That went a little too well." Ryou mumbled, his hand following the curves and bumps of the wall as they walked through the shadowed walkway.

Malik bit out an unfriendly chuckle. "Yeah. Tell me about it. Quick too."

"We sort of screwed up, didn't we?"

"A little. But at least we got the desired outcome."

"Not entirely," Ryou corrected quietly, feeling a little put-out. "They still don't trust us."

"We weren't expecting insta-trust, Ryou. Besides, Neville had us there for what, all of an hour?" Malik reminded him, his hands on his hips. He knew that Ryou had always sort of taken trust problems hard, especially since so many people in Japan had distrusted him because of Bakura's deeds.

"I know." Ryou frowned. "But we _did _mess up a bit. Some of them hate us."

"We knew that was coming too." He sighed. "It sort of came with the territory of being linked, even unwillingly, to the snake-bastard."

"I suppose."

"Ryou, this isn't some storybook. Not everything's going to work out perfectly. It doesn't happen that way."

"I know, Malik."

Ryou fixed the Egyptian with one of those haunting looks, the ones that said that Ryou was far more aware of the hardships of the world than he usually let on. Perhaps Bakura really _had_ shown him his true past. It sure appeared that Ryou knew just how bad things could go, and from the stories Ishizu had told him about Kul Elna, Bakura's birthplace…

"Then why the statements?" Malik asked lightly, trying to get that look out of Ryou's eyes, and that frown off of his face.

It worked. Sort of. "I don't know. Worry, maybe?"

They turned a corner, walking into the courtyard. They'd been coming to this particular courtyard quite often since they arrived at Hogwarts. Perhaps it had become their…peaceful place, or something to that effect.

"Don't worry about it, then. We don't need any extra stress piled up on top of everything else."

Ryou was about to say something in response, but he stopped, halting his movement through the courtyard altogether. Malik turned, an eyebrow raised.

"Bakura got something to say?" He guessed. At Ryou's nod, Malik shrugged a shoulder, "Let him out, then. I'm all ears."

Besides, he much preferred it when they actually told him when they switched. The steadily growing smaller and smaller differences between them were starting to freak Malik out a bit.

Ryou's hair spiked up, something that only Malik ever really noticed, and when he reopened his eyes, they were Bakura's ruby red.

"What's on your mind?" Malik asked the Spirit of the Millennium Ring. He stuck his hands in his pockets. They continued to walk.

Bakura made no small talk. He got right to the point. "We've spent too much time fretting over our own asses." The white-haired male explained in a cold, cutting tone, "it's time that we take action." His eyes slid to meet Malik's. "Malik, you know what I'm talking about."

He did.

"I know." He stopped as they reached the courtyard, his head inclined back and his eyes to the blue sky. "We're running out of time."

* * *

Neville sighed, leaning back against the door to the Room of Requirement. He glanced from side-to-side. No one except for him and Luna. Good.

"I'd say it was a fairly good meeting. Quick, but good." Luna piped up, as they began down the hallway.

Neville frowned. He didn't agree. "I think that we might lose some people from the DA. Michael wasn't happy."

"Michael won't leave. His mother was killed over the summer. He wants revenge." Luna informed him. Neville had already known of Michael's mother's death, but it was still refreshing to hear Luna remind him that Michael wouldn't leave.

The DA needed everyone they could get.

"Neville, how are you?"

The young man looked at her in surprise. "What?"

Luna smiled at him. "I have a feeling no one's asked you that in a while. I just wanted to make sure. You are my friend, after all."

"I'm fine." Neville replied automatically. He paused, reconsidering his statement, and then fixed it. "As fine as I can be, at least."

"Okay."

"My Gran's back home, you know." Neville commented, a vague air of relief to his voice. "She figured it was safe. Wanted to feed her cat."

"That's good." Luna said, smiling pleasantly at him. "She's a strong lady."

"I'm just worried." Neville mumbled, "that if the Carrows suspect anything of me…that they'll go after her again."

"Maybe," Luna said, "But she can handle it."

"She said that she had help the first time."

Luna cocked her head, her own gesture of surprise. "Really? Who?"

"She didn't say."

Luna fell silent. She was mulling over Neville's news, most likely. Perhaps she was trying to figure out who'd helped his Gran. With Luna, you never really knew quite what she was thinking about.

Sometimes you couldn't be sure if she was even really thinking at all. Luna had a tendency of being impulsive like that.

"My daddy's worried about keeping me here." When Neville looked at her this time, she appeared troubled. "He says that he's been receiving threats. I told him not to worry, though. After all, I am trying to charm the Wollyknockers."

Neville wasn't taking Luna's own news lightly. If her father was getting threats from Death Eaters, or that's who he assumed were the culprits, then Luna could be in serious danger.

So he voiced that worry.

Luna just waved him off, careless as ever. "It's fine. I'm trying not to concentrate on myself too much. It's not really the time to be selfish."

Neville couldn't agree more.

They stopped by the stairwell, where Neville would be going up to his dorm, and where Luna would be heading off to the library to study.

Their eyes met.

"We've still got a lot to talk about." Neville said.

Luna nodded. "Yes, but conversations can wait for now. We've had a lot of excitement today."

"We're pulling something tomorrow. Spray paint." Neville told her quietly, checking that no one had heard him while passing by. No one had passed them.

Good.

Luna nodded again. "Good luck, then. I hope you aren't caught. That would prove very bad for all of us." She held up a flower, the small plant having been concealed in her robes. "Here." She put it in the front pocket of his robe. "I can't give you my Wollyknocker charm, it'd have my daddy frightfully distraught, but this might help."

Then she disappeared back down the hallway.

Curious, Neville pulled the flower out of his pocket, rolling it in his hands. He blinked, noticing something peculiar. Written on the underside of the petals were four words, infinitesimal in their size, but immeasurable in their meaning.

_Harry would be proud._

Neville couldn't help but smile.

End of Chapter

Ah, yes. I actually managed to update the chapter. (waves a finger) Whoo…

And yeah, I'm sorry that Malfoy got absolutely zero action in this chapter. You're just goign to have to wait to see what his big thing with Luna was....(evil grin)

This one wasn't quite as rushed as chapter 16 (which I still feel bad for), but it was still...ugh...I hate it. I tried and tried and TRIED to make it better, I really did...

Well, I'd like to hear YOUR view on in. Good? Bad? Horrible? Something In Between?

Review!


	18. This Tainted Magic

OKAY! Guys, there was a lot of stuff brought up in the last chapter's reviews. First of all, this is NOT yaoi. I briefly considered it for a while, but I still stand where I did originally in regards to this fic. No romance. It's just not going to go that way.

Secondly, TeamVampire, could you point out in the next review some places where I'm actually doing that comma thing? I went back through the chapter, and to my knowledge, I couldn't find anywhere where I did that.

Thirdly: Reflective Reviewer 7? They didn't pack their disks (I think I mentioned that), but they DID pack their decks. I DID mention that! (Refer to chapter: Pause and Rewind) I can't give you a duel, per se…but I can give you some Duel Monster action. XD Hope that's enough for ya.

So…Reflective Reviewer 7? I guess part of this chapter is for you. ;)

**Point of Interest – **for those of you who are yearning for some could-be, damn-it-they're doing-shonen-ai-like-stuff for this fic, I've posted a collection of one-shots fic thingy. Chapter one is a could-have-been of a certain chapter in this story. XD I was, honestly, a little hyper.

Disclaimer: I keep forgetting to say this in my disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter! Not one little bit! (I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh)

Chapter Eighteen

This Tainted Magic

_Something is happening._

Draco Malfoy awoke in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat. His hands had, sometime during his fitful sleep, ripped two nearly symmetrical tears in his bed sheets.

"What in the world…?" He murmured, so quietly that no one else had a hope of hearing him. He wiped some of the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his nightshirt.

The moon glittered eerily down into the tiny, arching window of his dormitory. He'd always enjoyed his view of the castle grounds, as his bed was located right beside the window, and was one of the only outside views one got when living in the dungeons. Tonight, however, it just made his stomach twist in a sickly manner.

This…had never happened to Draco Malfoy before. Never had he been woken with such deeply embedded terror from the most basic, instinctual parts of his mind. Something about this night was wrong. It was bad. It was _dangerous_.

Voldemort was powerful, but whatever this was, it felt _dark_. It didn't feel evil, per se, just _dark_ and_ abnormal_ and _wrong._

It didn't belong here.

The fear flared again, stronger than before, and Draco watched as his fellow Slytherins stirred, some of them waking in a manner quite similar to his. Boys looked around, all of them confused.

Luckily, no one looked at Malfoy.

Because for some reason, Malfoy felt like he _knew_ more about whatever this was than anyone else did. He knew something, but he didn't know what he knew. He couldn't pinpoint the information.

_That makes no sense…_ he thought, dodging the desire to roll his eyes. It just wasn't the time for sarcasm.

Not when something like _this_, whatever it was, was happening.

"Anyone else feel that?" A young man piped up. Draco identified him as Patrick McLeary, once his eyes had adjusted properly. The boy was a sixth year, and was more pompous than even Malfoy had ever been. He had the worst superiority complex. Malfoy had come close to slugging the git himself a few times.

Another boy, some first year he didn't know the name of, shivered in his bed. "Was that _magic_?" He whispered, so quietly that had the room not already been practically silent, he would have gone unheard.

"I don't know," some third year said. "Anyone got a clue?"

Malfoy took the moment to slip out of bed and walk towards the stairs leading down to the Common Room.

"Where are _you_ going?"

Darius.

Git, git, git…

_I need to stop hanging around those two 'prefects', _Malfoy thought grumpily. _They're starting to give me a foul mouth._

Malik and Bakura.

A shiver ran up his spine.

_What in the world…?_

"Hey, Malfoy, you deaf or just stupid?" The accusation shocked Malfoy out of his thoughts.

A few kids gasped at the very audacious comment of Darius's.

Well, then.

Malfoy turned around in one fluid motion. He fixed Darius with the most bored expression he could muster, and twisted a vague, mocking smirk upon his lips. "No, Darius. I heard you. I just didn't think it warranted much of a response. After all, you don't come from anywhere _important. _How are you going to tell _me_ what to do?"

Darius's expression was so positively murderous, that if looks could kill, Malfoy had a pretty good idea that he'd have been dead.

Still, he couldn't pull up one part of himself that felt bad for his words. Darius deserved it. Darius was a threat. Darius needed to be snuffed out, by humiliation of they were the best means of doing so.

Malfoy couldn't argue with his own logic, especially when he knew that his logic was _right._

He spun on his heel, 'dusted off' his pajama pants, and strode down to the Common Room with his head held high.

The Common Room was dark, save for a few candles burning on the last of their wicks near the entrances to the dormitories and the main entrance. Malfoy had hoped to be slightly comforted by the solitude of the green-and-silver room, but no comfort came. He still felt…off.

_Something_ was still off.

He hated feeling like he should know what it was, and didn't.

He hated not knowing what it was, period.

The young man, the superior swagger no longer present in his movements, made his way over to a couch. He dropped down onto the plush surface, leaning back and closing his eyes.

_I don't know what's going on._

"Damn it," he whispered harshly, draping an arm over his face, blocking his vision.

"Draco Malfoy?"

His head snapped up, and his hand fell to uncover his eyes, meeting the cautious gaze of a young woman his age. She was dressed in her pajamas also, but had brought a button-up sweater with her. She'd pulled it over her shoulders, perhaps as a comfort or perhaps for warmth. It was getting fairly cold out, come to think of it. He supposed that it might've been for both, then.

She had hazel eyes, and chin-length, blunt-cut blonde hair. Who was she, again?

The girl stepped down from the steps to the girls' dormitory, and moved to stand behind the couch opposite to the one Malfoy was lounging in. She was wringing her hands, a gesture of obvious nervousness.

_Damn…what's her name? Her name, her name, her name…_

She bit her lip, resting her hands on the back of the couch, now. Well, at least she wasn't wringing them anymore.

Wait. He knew that scar on the back of her hand. It'd been an accident in Potions…fifth year…she was in his year…

"Minnie Gibbons." Malfoy replied, relieved at having finally recalled the girl's name. It would have been horribly embarrassing to have to ask her, not just for him, but for her too.

He no longer really felt the desire to humiliate those who didn't deserve it. This girl, so quiet and out of the way, definitely had done nothing to deserve humiliation.

"Why are you down here?" She asked him quietly, breaking their eye-contact to move towards him and sit beside him politely. At least she left some room between them. It said she was being fairly decent.

Malfoy still watched her, his stare even, "woke up. I had a bad feeling, so I came down here." He answered mildly.

"I see," she frowned slightly, a hand moving up to unconsciously grasp the sweater draped over her shoulders, "that's why I came down here." She looked up at him, and smiled. "I was surprised to find you here, though."

"It _is_ a Common Room." Malfoy pointed out, and she flushed slightly, a little embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, I know that," she was attempting to recover her composure, "but I thought that I was the only one who _really_ felt that…whatever it was."

"Me too."

She looked up at him in surprise. "You too?" She echoed, and her brow furrowed. She fisted her hand that was holding the sweater, twisting the fabric.

Malfoy blinked at her, "something wrong?"

Minnie Gibbons hesitated for a moment, working her jaw as if she were contemplating the pros and cons of answering. Then, after the moment had passed, she met his eyes again, her stare a little fearful, and filled with her confusion. "Have you ever had a feeling that something really bad happened, and your brain tells you that you know what it is, but you have no idea _how_ or _what_ your brain is telling you to remember?"

He paused.

That was _exactly_ what Malfoy had been feeling.

"Yes, I have." Malfoy said quietly, in response to her question.

"Did you get it tonight?"

He paused again. Then, "yes."

"I see."

_No, you really don't. You think you do, but you're wrong._

As the thought came, images slid into place, like puzzle pieces arranging themselves of their own accord.

He knew exactly who was behind the unease circulating through, Malfoy assumed, the entire school.

It was _them_.

"Their magic…" Malfoy whispered in realization, catching the interest of the girl sitting beside him.

She decided to comment, "what was that?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly, "just muttering about homework."

"Oh."

"I'm going to go back upstairs." Malfoy told her, "you should too."

If the girl had even a shred of common sense, she'd grasp the meaning behind his words.

Luckily, she did, and nodded to him. "I can cover for you, if you want." She offered gently, standing up.

Malfoy blinked in surprise. "Really…?"

She let out a quiet laugh. "Of course," her smile was genuine, "there _are_ people who honestly want to help you, you know."

It was a comforting thought, though he would probably never know who these 'honest helpers' were. He didn't see himself trusting many people in the times to come.

"Thank you." He mouthed, and slipped silently out of the Common Room.

He wasn't sure if she watched him leave or not.

Malfoy couldn't really keep his mind on the odd girl who he barely knew, this girl who was willing to help him even though they barely knew one another. His mind had drifted elsewhere. He was on a mission.

He had to see if his hunch was correct.

* * *

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

Something was coming towards him. It was pushing at every side of his mind, trying to invade the entirety of his being. His ears were suddenly filled with the heavy thrumming of what only could be his heartbeat. Its steady, rhythmic beating blocked out nearly every other sound…

…that was when the walls collapsed, and it began to descend upon him.

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

It was like a tsunami of power surging violently towards him. He would never be able to move out of the way in time, for the wave was just too massive and too quick.

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

Not that he wanted to escape it. He welcomed it. He even welcomed it as it collapsed over him, enveloped him, and took him under. He welcomed it as it forced its way into his body, exploding in every one of his veins.

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

Was it painful? Yes. It was still welcomed, though. This was the very magic that he'd thrived on for nearly five millennia. He would not be rejecting its delicious, dark power any time soon.

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

_Our Masters! Our Masters! _The shadows chorused. _Our Masters have returned to us at last!_

The shadows were as pleased to be reunited with him as he was with them.

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

The shadows, in their glee, consumed him. They twirled and danced around him, before consuming him again. Then they'd repeat it. Their happiness was beginning to rub his soul a little raw, like sandpaper being grated against bare skin for too long, but he didn't mind so much.

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

They weren't only being annoying. They were also familiarizing him with his magic again, or at least doing so on a more powerful scale than what he'd re-mastered in the recent two weeks or so.

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

He still wasn't at one hundred percent, though.

Oh well. This was enough for now.

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

_Ba-dum…_

His eyes opened. Whoever saw him would have been absolutely terrified by the sight. He glanced to the mirror hanging on the wall opposite to his bed.

Yes, just as he thought. His eyes were _glowing_. His bloody irises were shining with an ethereal, eerie light that only a spirit could conjure up.

So why were Malik's eyes glowing a deeper violet than usual? Why were his eyes glowing at all?

He felt goose bumps raise along his arms.

Ah. It was _him_, then. The shadows had definitely returned.

"Marik," the Spirit of the Ring greeted calmly and slowly. He was still relishing in the return of his power. He'd known it was coming.

It was wonderful.

"Thief King!" Marik greeted excitedly, his eyes widening with childish glee. Bakura wasn't fooled, though. He could see the intelligence and cunning veiled by the childishness that was forced upon this creature by Malik's changing personality.

After all, Marik was only the embodiment of Malik's dark side. When Malik's dark side wasn't hell bent on revenge and taking over the world, Marik would be nothing much more than harmless.

Harmless to those that Malik cared about, at least. Malik was projecting his anger elsewhere, instead of towards those whom he trusted, nowadays.

"You're still all mixed-up, aren't you?" When Bakura didn't answer, the wild-haired blonde continued, "me too."

"Give me a moment;" Bakura commented sarcastically, "I'm still having trouble understanding why you speak in both first and third person."

Marik cocked his head. "We weren't talking about Marik's speech patterns, you know."

A deadpan look. "I know."

Marik said nothing. He only stared at Bakura with a patient expression. He was waiting for Bakura to answer his earlier question.

"Yes, I'm still rather muddled." The spirit relented, after a few moments of the relentless staring. Marik grinned, happy at having gotten his way.

"I still haven't quite figured what to make of it."

Marik shrugged, getting up out of his bed to stretch his muscles. He let the sheets fall to the ground. He hadn't even bothered to move them off of himself before he stood up. "That's fine. Neither has Malik-pretty."

"Is that honestly what you're going to call him from now on?"

"Of course it is," Marik looked a little perplexed by Bakura's question. "What else would I call Malik-pretty?"

"Never mind."

"I'd call him 'Never Mind'?"

Bakura's eyes sharpened to flint, and he stood up. "Listen to me, Marik," he hissed as he walked up to the blonde, so close that their noses were almost touching, "you're not stupid, and neither am I. So please, stop putting up this idiotic charade. It's not very becoming."

The grin dropped from Marik's face. It was replaced by a vague, cold smile. _This_, Bakura noted, was the true Marik. "I found it necessary," he explained in a voice that sounded more reminiscent of Battle City, "to make Malik believe that I was easily trusted."

Bakura's eyes narrowed, "and why is that?" He urged, trying to force the monster to explain himself.

"The problem with _humans _is that they trust idiots and supposed innocents easier than they trust those who do not play such a foolish part." His eyes snapped up to Bakura's. "I need him to trust me."

Bakura stepped back, putting a little distance between the two of them. "You're every bit the idiot you've been acting as if you think that _that's_ going to make him trust you."

"It's worked so far." Marik pointed out.

"True. However," Bakura snapped a finger up, a dark shadow passing across his face, "Malik is neither trusting nor stupid, so he _will_ figure you out eventually. Do you intend to attempt cleaning up the mess afterwards, or shall you inform him of your true mindset now, before you ruin whatever plans you have?"

"I have no 'plans' other than to help him destroy this _Dark Lord_ fool." Marik answered. "That much, at least, was the truth."

"At least." Bakura echoed scornfully, curling his lip at the shadow-soul in front of him.

Marik said nothing, only fiddled with the end of Malik's Millennium Rod. The Eye of Horus glowed softly on his forehead.

"Your mind truly has changed, then." Bakura said, a curious edge lining his voice. "It's surprising, to say the least."

"I do not choose my path, nor do I choose how I embark upon it." Marik answered in an eerily monotonous tone. "It is Malik, and _only_ Malik, who decides _who_ and _what_ I am."

"So even when you imprisoned him in the Shadows and then attempted to destroy all traces of him, you were still 'acting upon his bidding'?" Bakura queried skeptically, cocking an eyebrow.

Marik shook his head. "No."

"Then what exactly were you doing, Marik? You just fancied following your whims?"

"More or less." He replied. "But my _essence_ and _mind_ were written by Malik's loathing and rage. It was these traits that led me to do the things that I did. As I said: I do not choose what I do or how I do it. Every time I ever return, my mind will be rewritten in a different way. Still fundamentally the same, yes, but different in that I do not desire the same outcomes nor would desire to achieve them in the same way."

"World domination?"

"Not one of my current interests."

Bakura grinned, flashing his pointed canines. "Good. That saves my having to destroy you."

"If you couldn't do it then, Tomb Robber, you surely cannot tell me that you will succeed now." Marik jeered cockily, an amused smile spreading across his face.

Bakura raised a hand, letting a ball of black shadow-fire explode around it. "I was not able to maintain my true abilities during Battle City, Marik. You know that." His eyes were drawn to the fire around his hand, his entire body yearning to do more. He suppressed the desire. There was no need to draw attention.

"Yes." Marik answered, in response to the thief's question.

"So tell me," Bakura drawled, examining being before him, "was the whole act in the mind plane entirely necessary?"

"Yes." Marik said, before he smirked. "Why, did I _hurt _your _feelings_?"

Bakura waved a hand, dissipating the flames made of his shadow magic. "No. I was just curious. That too was for Malik, then?"

"No. It was, admittedly, mostly for that Draco Malfoy child." Marik replied slowly, looking a little bored with the entire conversation. Then again, he always did look somewhat bored with _everything_ around him.

When he wasn't killing people or making things blow up, that is.

"And why is that?"

Marik chuckled humorlessly, "because he _is_ the very quintessence of a stupid human."

Ah. More trust concepts. He didn't want to make more complications between Malik, himself, Ryou, and Draco Malfoy.

At least Marik wasn't as stupid as he'd been letting on. It was a bit of a relief.

"The boy didn't need to know anything." Bakura said suddenly. "You shouldn't have egged on his curiosities like that."

"Why not?" Marik appeared a little surprised. "It was _fun_."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "It's produced a burden. I don't care whether it was _fun_ or not."

"If he becomes a nuisance, we can just kill him."

A raised eyebrow, "what happened to your 'whole new personality'?"

"I never said that I was any more merciful than I ever have been." Marik explained, giving Bakura a look that clearly stated he found himself a little superior. That pissed Bakura off a bit. "I only stated that my interests are elsewhere. It results in less humans being on the receiving end of my mercy…or perhaps, more appropriately, lack thereof."

Bakura's mind suddenly shifted back to what he'd wanted to do today. What had he been planning?

Ah, yes. He ought to get doing that. Besides, he was beginning to tire of Marik droning on and on.

"Let Malik back out." Bakura ordered. "I need his help."

Marik scoffed. "You can't make me do anything." When Bakura appeared about to tell Marik exactly _what_ he could make him do, the blonde continued. "Besides, he's unable to help right now. What about Ryou? How is he taking the return of his magic?"

Bakura paused.

Ryou wasn't. Ryou had fainted as soon as the magic began its return. Bakura had noticed it, but had known it was going to happen anyways, so gave it very little thought. Sure, he'd been careful to make sure that Ryou was okay, but his light was in no danger. There wasn't much to worry about.

"He's unable to help."

Marik chuckled, "see? It appears that the lighter sides suffer more with Shadows than we dark spirits."

Bakura cast Marik a condescending glare. "Don't compare yourself to me. I'm on an entirely different _plane_ than you are." He turned, grabbing up a pair of pants other than Ryou's night pants. "But I guess you'll have to do."

"Mm?"

"Now," Bakura stated harshly, "we're going to go do some snooping around. Can you handle that?"

Marik grinned that horrible, predatory grin of his, "sounds like fun."

* * *

Bakura would never admit it aloud, nor would he ever admit it to Malik, but Marik was absolutely excellent at moving silently and quickly through a building. He would have made an excellent thief.

Scratch that. He'd never tell this to _Marik_. He might bug Malik about it, though, provided Marik never heard about it.

Marik couldn't know that he'd even succeeded in slightly impressing the King of Thieves.

Bakura turned a corner sharply, catching Marik by surprise. The other male quickly amended his mistake, and caught up to Bakura, following closely behind him.

"_So, what are the chances of us being caught?" _Bakura queried casually through the mind link that Marik had opened before they left. It helped with stealth when one wasn't yelling over his shoulder to ask a question.

Marik seemed to consider this a moment, before answering. _(Fairly low, I'd say. The students and teachers are mostly in bed or staying away from here, so the only problem is going to be the Headmaster himself.)_

"_Ah." _Bakura smirked, _"then shall we get him _out_ of his office?"_

_(We shall.)_

Bakura stopped running, Marik skidding to a halt behind him. He gestured for the blonde to follow him into an empty classroom.

"Are we summoning?" Marik asked in that annoying bored tone. He had rested one hand on his hip, his other dangling by his side. His narrow violet eyes followed Bakura's movements with laidback inspection.

The Spirit of the Ring closed the door quietly. He raised a hand over the lock and waved it across once. Shadows materialized, melting into the lock and turning the silver object black.

"Now, no one will intrude unexpectedly," he explained to a blinking Marik, "and yes, we are summoning."

"Summoning who, exactly?"

The Eye of Horus burst into existence on Bakura's forehead, sending an explosion of light forwards. Marik stepped back, blocking his face from the light.

Bakura flipped open the deck-holster on his belt, the case having been hidden beneath his shirt. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand hovering over his deck. After a moment, his eyes snapped open, and a wicked grin bloomed across his face.

"Dark Necrofear!" Bakura declared, as shadows rose up and flared around them in a cocoon-like protection, "come to me!"

The duel monster rose from the shadows beneath them, stopping to bow before its master. The creature looked up at Bakura, as if asking what its duty was.

Bakura, the Eye still glowing brightly on his forehead, cast an expectant ruby glare at Marik. "Well…?"

If Bakura's grin was evil, then Marik's was positively brimming with insanity. It was doubtful that the blonde could have smiled any wider. His eyes were wide with craziness, and the Eye appeared on his forehead also. Two identical streaks of light circled him once before dissipating.

Bakura had zero clue what that was about. It was probably just Marik being arrogant and making a big show of his magic.

"Revival Jam!"

The silver blob took form, its form bobbing around in front of him. He leered over at Bakura, "this one will definitely keep the _wizards_ busy."

"Indeed." Bakura replied, not looking particularly interested. "I would have assumed you'd summon your Masked Beast Des Gardius, since you do have a talent for destruction."

Marik didn't key into the shot at his habits. He just cocked his head to the side. "What, did you _want_ me to have a monster that would destroy the entire castle?"

"Not really, no."

"The Revival Jam will, as you know, be much harder to get rid of than my Masked Beast." Marik explained, twirling some hair between two fingers. "It'll have those Carrows chasing it around the castle until _morning_."

Bakura grinned widely, "I'm finding that I like your thinking more and more."

"We have more in common than you think." Marik said, before turning back to his Revival Jam. "What shall we command them to do?"

"Rampage."

Marik let out a laugh, "ah, is that what we'll have them do?"

Bakura's head snapped back to the beat before him. "Dark Necrofear," the monster looked up obediently, "cause a little havoc around the castle. Just don't kill anyone, especially not the Carrows or the Headmaster. That may cause too much interest, and may turn attention to us. I do not want that."

Dark Necrofear nodded. It knew what its master wanted.

"Revival Jam, do the same." Marik commanded flippantly. The Revival Jam did not seem to mind this, though, and rotated around once it its own way of saying 'yes'.

Dark Necrofear bowed once more to its master, before vanishing through the door, Revival Jam close at its heels.

The room was empty. Bakura let go of the Shadows, and the Eye of Horus vanished from his forehead. Marik did the same. He'd always preferred to keep a permanent hold on his magic, but for the sake of discretion, he would break the tie unless he absolutely needed it.

Bakura blew out a sigh, rotating one arm. His shoulder hurt.

_Damn it,_ Bakura thought darkly, _the shadows are still weak enough that they have to sap our physical strength to work properly._

Well, with Dark Necrofear on the loose, it was only going to get worse for him.

"You feel it too?"

Bakura glanced over at Marik, who was absently cradling his wrist. "Malik's damn injury is resurfacing, because of the Shadows."

"You know, I think that's the first time I've heard you swear."

Marik's lips twitched in vague amusement. His eyes trailed up to the ceiling of the classroom. It was covered in beautiful paintings of what had to be ancient battles. Bakura blinked. One of the scenes depicted…a gnome war?

"This is a history classroom, I'm assuming." Marik commented. Bakura noticed the corners of his eyes tighten for a moment, and his grip on his wrist tighten also. The pain must have passed after a second, because he relaxed once more.

Bakura turned towards the door. "The type of classroom is irrelevant, Marik."

"I was simply speaking for the sake of it." Marik's eyes slid to meet Bakura's with a cool, mocking edge. "No need to be snappy."

"I can do whatever the hell I want."

Bakura didn't take kindly to being made fun of, especially from an idiot like Marik.

"Put your claws away." Marik said with a snort, moving past Bakura and releasing the shadows from the door. "We should alert the Headmaster now." He said, moving out of the room and into the hallway.

Bakura snorted right back, glaring at the blonde. He didn't say anything in response, though. He just followed Marik as the two of them approached the statue leading up to the office.

The Spirit of the Millennium Ring stepped forward. "Veritaserum."

Marik glanced over at Bakura, "pardon me?" His question was answered, however, when the statue began to move, revealing a familiar hidden staircase.

"Ah." The blonde said, blinking a little.

Bakura cocked an eyebrow, and jerked his head in a 'follow me' motion. "Ready to be convincing?"

"I _can_ act, you know."

Bakura chuckled without humor. "I know."

They reached the top, in front of a massive wooden door. Bakura knocked a few times, hoping it sounded relatively frantic.

There was no answer.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

Bakura glanced at Marik, shrugging slightly, "I guess our dearest Headmaster has already gone to investigate."

"That or he's not around." Marik added. "Can you get us in?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Bakura queried, with a hint of arrogance colouring his tone. He took one look at the keyhole in the door, and pulled a relatively thick pin from his pocket.

Marik snickered.

"What?" Bakura snapped, "did you expect me _not_ to always be prepared? It's helping _you_, isn't it?"

Marik's eyebrows rose just about into his hairline, and he smiled at Bakura. "Why do you feel the need to be so snappish?"

"With you, it's an obligation." Bakura shot back, and shoved the pin none to gently into the keyhole. He fiddled with it only for a moment, before pulling it back out and shoving it into his pocket. He lifted his hand, jostled the door handle a bit, and watched with satisfaction as the door swung open.

"Impressive."

"It shouldn't be, when I'm doing it."

"Were you just complimenting yourself, my friend?"

"Don't call me a 'friend'. I'm nothing of the sort in regards to _you_."

Marik just grinned.

"Shall we get this done, or are we going to argue our time away?" The blonde queried, inciting a vicious scowl from Bakura, who breezed forwards without another word.

"We need to find any sort of information about _him_." Bakura instructed after closing and re-locking the door. "I'm sure Headmaster Snape has something."

Marik moved towards a bookshelf, scanning titles, "these look like schoolbooks."

"Then look somewhere else."

This elicited a scowl from Marik, who let out a quiet growl of warning. His patience was, apparently, thinning.

_Well, fine. _Bakura thought coldly, _he's already run my temper through and back again._

Bakura turned away from the somewhat irate shadow user and approached the desk. Something had to be around there. Judging by the Headmaster's personality, if he had any incriminating stuff, he'd want to keep it where he was often enough to check on it.

Thus, his desk.

_It won't be anywhere on top. _Bakura thought, glancing around at the piles upon piles of papers. He almost groaned. This would be _manual labor._ Ew.

The spirit let out a sigh and got to work. Nothing was going to get done if he didn't get started.

He opened a drawer. It was filled with quills and empty parchment. One quick glance under the pile told him that he wouldn't be finding much there. He closed the drawer.

Bakura's eyes trailed up to Marik, who _had_ moved over to another bookshelf filled with what had appeared to be various book logs kept by the previous headmaster. At this point, however, Marik was standing still, his head bowed, his eyes covered by his hair, and appearing to be kind of…unconscious.

"Hey stupid," Bakura called, but he got nothing. He furrowed his brow. "Marik…? You alive over there…?"

"That…is a relative term." Marik replied after a moment, raising his head to look at Bakura with misty, unfocused eyes.

Bakura's eyebrows shot up. "_Are_ you dying on me?" He queried, a slight bit of concern seeping into his voice. He didn't want to have to carry Marik all the way back to their room.

Marik closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to gingerly touch his temples. "No, but Malik is forcing control."

"Huh?"

Marik's eyes snapped back open, the deep violet lightening a shade. "He's unconsciously fighting the other entity in control of this body."

"Unconsciously…?"

"Yes," he answered slowly, his voice rising a bit from the gravelly deepness of Marik's. "My time is up."

Bakura didn't say anything, only watched impassively as Marik's eyes turned the familiar violet of Malik, and his hair dropped from its previous wildness to a more Malik-like hairstyle. His face, too, changed. It looked less vicious.

_Though he still looks like a cocky bastard._

He blinked, for a moment, before looking around. He appeared quite confused. "Bakura…? Where are we? What the hell is going on?"

Bakura continued looking through the desk, not paying too much mind to Malik's confusion. "Of course it's me, you dolt, we're in the Headmaster's office, and we're currently trying to find information that could help us against the snake-bastard." He raised a level, inexpressive look at Malik, "any other questions?"

Malik turned a little red with embarrassment. "I'm just sort of confused, is all."

"I figured_ that_ much out."

The blonde snorted, scratching the back of his head. "What I don't get, though," he continued, "is _how _I got here and somehow can't remember."

"_You_ didn't do anything. _Marik_ came here with me." Bakura answered shortly, allowing a mischievous grin to spread across his face.

"And no one is dead _because_…?" Malik asked in a deadpan tone, raising a thin eyebrow.

Bakura chuckled. "He's not quite the same as he used to be."

"Well, yeah," Malik said, "he's a hell of a lot weirder."

"Not that," Bakura told him sharply, closing another drawer. "But you should ask _him_." He met Malik's eyes with a meaningful gaze, "he just might surprise you."

"Whatever."

The spirit smirked, picking up a small pile of papers and flipping through them. "We've already covered that large bookshelf across the room to your right. I've got dibs on the desk." Bakura replaced the papers in their original space. "So make yourself useful and get to work."

"Did Marik finish this bookshelf?" Malik queried, pointing at the one he was standing in front of.

"No. You decided to say hello before he got a chance to get to it."

"What, so we prefer Marik now?" Malik snapped, hands on his hips. He gave Bakura a 'pissed-off-teenager' glare, and waited for a response.

"Quite the contrary," he answered in an oddly polite tone, "I hate both of you." The politeness vanished. "I just hate you less."

"Gee, you really know how to warm my heart."

"I try."

"Asshole," Malik spat, though there was an impish grin on his face that said he was enjoying the moment of banter.

Bakura's lips twitched in amusement.

Malik pulled out one of the books with a more recent date, from sometime two years ago, and began flipping through the pages. "So…our magic came back." He commented quietly, eyes half-lidded as he skimmed.

"To a certain extent, yes," Bakura replied, equally as softly.

"I guess we know what that means."

"Yes."

"Is Ryou conscious?"

"No."

Malik snapped the book shut, and pulled out the next one. He glanced at Bakura briefly, who was rifling through papers a little more impatiently. "I think I know what Ryou's vision was about."

"Hm…?"

"The one during the DA meeting," Malik clarified, "I think I know what it meant."

A dark chuckle, "do you now?"

"Yes."

"And that is…?"

"It's bad, if that's what you're asking."

Their eyes met, and the expression on Malik's face told Bakura everything that he didn't need to hear from the blonde. After a moment, Malik returned to skimming the records.

Bakura's eyes grew shadowed, and he could feel his magic pulling in query at his sudden attitude change. It was a good thing that Ryou was still out; otherwise he might've caught the memory of his vision.

It certainly wouldn't bode well.

"Hey, Bakura…?"

He glanced up, where Malik was standing, wide-eyed, with one of the records open in his hands.

"What? Having trouble reading?" Bakura queried dryly. When Malik shook his head absently, not even making a snappy comment, Bakura dropped what he was looking at and glided to Malik's side.

"What is it?"

Malik handed him the book. "Third paragraph down," he said, "read it and tell me if something strikes you as odd."

_When I found Severus explaining how he has agreed, that he accepted that it was my own time to offer, he was sure to help me and end things such as my debts to Harry's life._

"That's not a paragraph, Malik. It's a sentence."

"Whatever." Malik snapped, and indicated the lines of text. "Doesn't that seem odd to you?"

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "It's certainly one of the odder sentences I've read. Why?"

"Well, we know from Neville telling us yesterday that the last Headmaster was very close to Harry Potter, right?"

"And this is about him?"

"No." Malik said, eyes hardening. "It has nothing to do with Harry. This is a code. I thought it was weird, since it was the only thing that didn't make sense…I think he wanted someone to figure it out."

"Like who?"

"Like Harry Potter. I think this message is meant for him." Malik pressed his finger to the page, "now read every fourth word."

Bakura's eyes widened.

_When I found Severus explaining how he has agreed, that he accepted that it was my own time to offer, he was sure to help me and end things such as my debts to Harry's life._

_Severus has accepted my offer to end my life._

End Chapter

Dun, dun, dun…!!! What is this? A PLOT TWIST?

Naw, not really. Anyone who's read Deathly Hallows knows what the last part meant. If you haven't…I'll be ruining the book for you, next chapter. Sorry.

Jeez, this chapter was so hard to write…

Well, review!


	19. The False Enemy

I don't think I have a lot of words to describe how sorry I am that it's taken this long to update. I did post my reason - my computer with all of the new chapters went completely on the fritz, and I'd finished up to about chapter twenty-three. So, you can see my...well, reluctance to have to rewrite all of that.

I wasn't aware that recovering the data would take so long, so thus, we are here.

I'm SORRY! (insert overdramatic, semi-animated tears here)

I really, really hope that this makes up for it. See! Extra-long chapter! Almost seven thousand words! Whoo!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter, no matter how much I want/try to. :)

Chapter Nineteen

The False Enemy

_Severus has accepted my offer to end my life._

"Unbelievable," Bakura breathed, snatching the book away from Malik urgently, "completely and totally unbelievable."

"The Headmaster's on our side."

"No," Bakura answered harshly, "no, he's not."

Malik blinked, cocking an eyebrow curiously, "what do you mean?"

Bakura trailed a finger down the sheet of parchment, an odd kind of smile working onto his face. "Remember that this is most likely designed for this hero-boy that everyone is waiting for. It's not meant for us."

"So...what?"

The spirit's hand moved gently to the end of the page and, with an almost manic expression, ripped the parchment out of record book, snapping it shut immediately after.

"It means that we," he gave Malik a meaningful look, pocketing the small piece of paper, "are going to take it upon ourselves to destroy the evidence. The chance of Harry Potter returning to this school is slim to none, and from what we've gathered, he doesn't have a great running record with our dear Headmaster, here. He won't come to this office. The previous Headmaster obviously didn't think this out well enough."

"-Or he could have predicted that we'd take it, and we're just playing into the exact timeline that he wanted to occur." Malik pointed out.

"Or you could be completely delusional, yes," Bakura agreed sarcastically, tossing the record book at Malik with a little more force than was necessary.

Malik rolled his eyes, deciding not to comment on that. He turned back to the shelf, replacing the records back in their original place, "so explain this to me: how does this mean that the Headmaster isn't on our side?"

"Because he's on their side, on this hero kid's side, on the DA's side."

"...and that's not the side we're on." Malik finished, shoving his hands into his pockets casually.

Their eyes met.

"Exactly," Bakura answered softly, "and we've already made that quite clear."

"Uh huh," the young Egyptian agreed.

They went silent for a moment, both of them mulling over their recent discovery.

_(Ah, Malik.)_

Said male reeled back a bit, surprised at the chilling tone in the back of his mind. He bristled, fisting his hands in a blatant display of hatred.

_So you haven't changed, _Malik hissed in his mind, _I should have guessed that it was just a ruse._

_(Hm, think what you will. I'd suggest saving this argument for a later occasion, however. He's returning.)_

_What?_

_(The Headmaster. You'd better hurry up.)_

Then Marik vanished again, cutting of Malik's only form of communication with the monstrosity that inhabited his mind.

The mere fact that Marik hadn't just taken control of Malik's mind again was a small comfort, one that drew a small, flickering ember of doubt in the young man's mind.

"Talking to Marik...?" the Spirit of the Ring guessed, a grim smile on his face.

Malik only needed to glance at the other male to know almost immediately why Bakura was smiling that way.

"You knew," he accused quietly.

Bakura returned Malik's gaze with an even expression, one that betrayed no real feelings on the issue. "Yes, I did."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"You were unconscious at the time," Bakura explained briefly, his finger absently stroking the small piece of paper in his pocket, "it wasn't exactly going to do much if I told you."

"I forced control again, though," Malik snapped.

"Yes, and...?"

"You should have told me as soon as I was aware again! You owe me that much!" Malik shouted, clenching his fists tighter to avoid punching the spirit and causing a much unneeded ruckus.

"I owe you nothing," Bakura said, his tone clipped and cold.

_(He is almost here.)_

Ignoring the presence in his mind, Malik regarded Bakura again with a calmer front. "The Headmaster's on his way."

"Ah," Bakura answered.

"Let's go," Malik instructed, moving towards the door, "we can get out now if we-"

The unmistakable grinding sound of the stairway moving into place came to their ears. Both of them exchanged a somewhat panicked look.

"Oh, crap." Malik hissed in an undertone.

Bakura strode quickly towards Malik, grabbing his arm and pulling him up against him roughly, "this might be painful."

The words were not of the very comforting sort. Malik tried to pull away, but Bakura's hold on him was strong as iron.

"What are you do-"

Malik's words were cut off by shadows exploding around them, sucking them backwards. It was worse than when they'd apparated with the wizards, way back.

Malik had travelled by shadows, but never like this.

As they vanished into nothingness, neither of them noticed a folded piece of paper fall out of Bakura's pocket and flutter gently to the floor.

* * *

Headmaster Snape opened the large door to his office, dropping the iron key back into his pocket. He closed the door behind him, gently, so that he would not wake the sleeping Headmasters of years past behind him.

_I'd almost thought that..._

No. It couldn't have been. It wasn't possible. The sound of voices behind the door, _inside_ his office, was a figment of his imagination. He'd had many restless nights, and delusions were very open to possibility.

_I don't want to consider that anyone was in here. The fact that someone could compromise the entire thing- _

Well, needless to say, the prospect of it sent shivers down his spine. If anyone located and possessed just the right information, they could bring the entire Resistance crumbling to the ground.

He didn't want to think about what would result should something like that happen.

Although...

As he reached his desk, noticing the slight difference in the order of the books he'd piled up earlier that day, he knew that the worst was a very real situation.

The decisive manner in which everything was so skilfully returned to a _near-perfect_ order to how it'd originally looked confirmed the identities of his little office-bandits.

_Perhaps..._ he trailed off, fingering the pages of the book that had been so carelessly left at the top of the pile. The book that had been on the bottom when he'd left.

_Perhaps this can prove more useful than detrimental, for us._

"Or, perhaps I am far too calm about this than I should be." He murmured, vague amusement in his voice. He wondered if simply the title of Headmaster was enough to make one go batty. It certainly explained the previous Headmaster's state of mind.

_Batty old man._

Snape looked up, surveying the rest of his office for any obvious changes. As he looked, his eyes caught a small white spec on the floor, closer to the door.

How surprising that he hadn't noticed it sooner.

"How sly these boys are," Snape whispered to himself, drawing his wand out of his sleeve in one, fluid movement.

He would just have to make up for their mistakes, then. It was a pity, though. He'd expected far more out of an ancient grave robber. Perhaps he'd been expecting too much.

Or, perhaps, something had scared them off.

He barked out a harsh laugh. Yes, something. _He_ had been what scared them off, leading them to lose track of their mission and leave careless hints. Of course, anyone else wouldn't have known exactly who had done it, but Snape was particularly gifted in such areas. He was tough to fool.

Well, evidence was evidence. He couldn't go leaving things like this everywhere. It would cause a nuisance.

_Which is a magnificent understatement, _he noted sardonically, a hard frown setting onto his face.

He hadn't expected them to figure it out so quickly, nor be as bold as to discover it like this. Perhaps they hadn't disappointed him as much as he'd thought. They'd certainly gotten the job done, at the very least.

_Well, it's best not to prolong this._

With a forlorn kind of smile, Headmaster Snape raised his wand and pointed it at the seemingly innocent, folded square of paper on the floor.

_"Incendio..."_

...And watched the folded square of paper burn.

* * *

Prior to the entire mess in Britain, most people who knew Bakura and Malik weren't often surprised when one or both of them randomly appeared in their homes. It was an off week when Malik didn't just pop over to somebody's house in Japan for the heck of it.

It was an off day when Bakura didn't pop by Malik's to threaten and/or annoy him. Occasionally, disguised as "Ryou" learning "Shadow Magic" for his "personal safety", Bakura would tag along on one of Malik's escapades to Domino City.

So, either way, Shadow Teleportation was nothing new to the two of them.

However, this did not factor in that Shadow Teleportation was one of the most complex forms of Shadow Magic. It necessitated constant practice - which explained Bakura and Malik's similarly annoying habits.

Since the whole mess in Britain _had_ occurred, the two of them were extremely out-of-practice. This resulted in the two of them dropping from a portal created a good five feet in the air, and falling in an unceremonious heap of limbs and clothing on the floor. The _stone_ floor.

Malik, who'd been unlucky enough to be on the bottom of their two-man pile, bit out a string of harsh curses in multiple languages immediately after impact.

Bakura rolled off of the other male immediately. He was a sadist, yes, but he didn't really want to kill Malik. He might need him for later. Lying on the poor blonde until he suffocated was probably not beneficial to his already failing health.

Considering the company he kept, that is.

"This is why I hate the Snake-Bastard," Malik hissed, struggling to orient himself well enough to stand. His lower back ached, and he felt a familiar throbbing in his wrist.

_If I've re-broken it, I swear..._

The break had completely healed when his magic returned, but that said nothing for re-breaking it. Just because it was healed didn't mean his Shadow Magic could put his wrist back to a hundred percent. It would still be brittle, like any freshly healed break.

Just to make sure, Malik rolled his wrist around in a circle. It moved fine, albeit with a little pain.

_Probably just a mild sprain, or something._

Either way, the majority of his body was going to be aching for a good little while. People don't fall from five feet up and just walk away un-bruised. Life just didn't work that way.

"I would make a lame pun about you two dropping in, but I'm failing to see the humour in the entire situation, so I'll refrain."

Bakura and Malik instinctively fell into position, arms out, ready to cast magic at whomever was in their room.

"Relax, it's just me," a familiar voice said, and there was the whooshing of movement. "_Lumos._"

Light flickered into existence, from the point of a wand. The glow enveloped the room, revealing Draco Malfoy's face. He looked awfully suspicious of something.

"Care to explain your sudden ability to use that magic of yours?" he queried after a moment, crossing his arms, his glowing wand dimming ever-so-slightly. "Or is this another need-to-know thing?"

Bakura moved towards one of the gas lamps and flicked it on, waiting for the flame to light up. After it had successfully lit up the entire dorm room, he turned back to Malfoy.

"You're angry."

"Damn right, I'm angry!" Malfoy hissed, leaping up from his seat at one of the armchairs. "I wake up, in the middle of the night, with this horrible feeling like the world's about to end. Then I come here, that same foreboding knot in my stomach telling me that it has something to do with you two idiots..." he trailed off, breathing heavily.

Silence.

_"Nox." _

The light on Malfoy's wand was extinguished.

"In our defence," Malik said, "we didn't know until tonight. Our magic returning surprised us, too."

Malfoy's lip curled, but he pocketed his wand. "Not good enough," he answered sharply.

Bakura crossed the room, to where Draco stood. He leaned into the boy's face, his own voice an irate whisper, when he finally spoke.

"Look, what more are you asking of us? An explanation?"

"An explanation would be nice."

Bakura's hand extended, and a swirling, black flame materialized in his palm. He drew it back towards him, watching with mild interest as the flames danced and twisted, but never burned his skin. "You do realize that once you are aware of our story, you will become irreversibly drawn into _our_ world. Shadow Magic is neither kind nor forgiving. It is likely that merely knowing of it will be the signature of your own death. Do you understand?"

Malfoy snorted. "If you're trying to scare me, you're doing a bloody awful job," he said, a vague smile on his face. One that said he wasn't afraid. One that said he was being arrogant so that he wouldn't be scared.

_Sometimes arrogance can replace bravery. _Malik commented, his thoughts floating across the forefront of Bakura's mind.

_"Sometimes," _Bakura agreed, _"but sometimes it's the very same thing."_

"I'm impressed," Bakura announced, after a moment. His and Malfoy's eyes locked, and Bakura saw exactly what he'd been expecting - confidence, arrogance, and pride, but beneath it all, Bakura could see the fear moving at the back of those eyes.

"You sound like you just had a small epiphany," Malik commented in a drawl, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Care to share?"

"He's trying to be brave." Bakura said to Malik, and the Egyptian nodded with a small "ah".

Malfoy's eyebrows rose. The way that they were speaking about him...coming from any other person it would've sounded condescending. Hell, any other time, coming from _them_ it would have sounded condescending. But at that moment...they sounded genuinely impressed. Surprised, even. Almost like they'd been expecting him to up and run screaming after Bakura delivered his little "our secret is going to kill you, just so you know" speech.

"What are you two so happy about?" Malfoy asked after a moment, crossing his arms. No matter what they appeared to be thinking, Malfoy wanted to know straight from them.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Spell it out for me," the blonde snapped, obviously tiring of their games. He knew that the two of them liked to screw around with peoples' heads, but that did not mean that he would let them do it to _him._

Silence.

"You have something of an awareness, already."

It was Malik who spoke first. When their eyes met, Malfoy's bespoke confusion and interest. Malik's bespoke age, age beyond his years.

Draco wasn't even going to go into how old Bakura's eyes looked. Especially when it wasn't Ryou. Ryou behaved adult, too adult for such a young, innocent-like man. Bakura just looked ancient. And dark. There was always something characteristically dark, almost evil, about Bakura.

"You can sense our magic. I think my sister calls it 'Reflection Touch'. It's when you have an ability to recognize and almost _see_ our magic, Shadow Magic, but you cannot use it."

"So, why the 'reflection'?" the other blonde queried.

"Because the touch is indirect," Malik explained. "It's like a reflection. An indirect connection to the Shadow Magic, like you can touch its reflection, but never the magic itself."

"Which puts you in a highly dangerous position," Bakura interrupted, and attention swivelled to him, "it makes you more vulnerable than any Shadow User. Sure, the magic can't be your direct downfall, as is stated in the whole "Reflection Touch" concept, but anyone or any_thing_ that seeks you out because you are connected to the power...well, you stand about the chance of a mouse against a mountain lion."

"However, you have a choice. In the hypothetical situation in which all three of us survive this nightmare, you will most likely have to hang around us - or Shadow Users like us - for the remainder of your life. That will mean uprooting your entire life here. Can you handle that?"

Malfoy snorted again, "I don't have much of a 'rooted life' here anyways. Look at this place," he gestured around for general effect, "it's mayhem wherever you look. But you said I have a 'choice'. What's the other option for me? If I choose to immerse myself in this world of yours."

"There are three, actually." Malik's voice was quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet.

"The second is that you let us sever all connections you have to our magic." Bakura answered, his voice rough and harsh as usual. There was no reluctance, in his voice. He didn't sound nearly as unwilling to inform Draco of his options as Malik was.

Perhaps it was Bakura's general lack of compassion. Or perhaps it was just that Malik had taken more of a liking to Draco than Bakura had. It wasn't like he wanted them to be all buddy-buddy, but he respected Malfoy's ability to repent for his wrongdoings. He respected that Malfoy could stop himself, before he took things to far, and that he could choose to fight back against the evil that had guided most of his life.

Malik could relate. Easily. He knew exactly what it was like, the situation Malfoy had been in. Malik had taken things too far. Malik had done terrible deeds, deeds that could not be taken back or repented for. Murder was not something you could reverse, change, or justify. Malik knew that. Which was why he could respect Draco Malfoy. Draco had stopped himself - to an extent - before he'd reached that point.

"Is that even possible?"

"What, severing your connection to our magic?"

"Yes."

Malik looked up, "it's entirely possible. It's the easiest and safest choice that's open to you."

"I see," Malfoy said, after a moment.

They relapsed into silence.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"The third option. What is it? You did say there was a third option."

"Yes."

But neither Malik nor Bakura continued further.

The two Shadow Users locked eyes. Malik looked like he didn't want to say it. Bakura looked like he could really care less.

Malfoy did not look irritated, as would have been expected. There was a certain expression of acceptance to his face. Like he knew. Like he could predict the third option, even if it went unsaid.

_I feel almost dirty saying it._

_"It's not like he doesn't know already."_

_Yeah, but the poor kid did kind of follow us. Now we're going to say that..._ he trailed off.

_"Stop being sentimental. This is why mortals are so damn annoying."_

"Well? My third choice...?"

Bakura gave Draco a chilly smile, one that confirmed the worst possible scenario. No hesitation. No reluctance. Just straight fact, nearly as cold as his smile.

"You die."

* * *

The Death Eaters guarding Lord Voldemort's personal quarters were not stupid men. If they were, they would not have been given such an important task to uphold. Lucius Malfoy had ordered them to not let anyone disturb the Dark Lord's rest. Being intelligent men, they stood attentively, wands openly at the ready, should anyone be stupid enough - unlike them - to attempt to bother their Dark Lord.

Mervillus Crump and Percival Finn were very intelligent men indeed. They were loyal to their Dark Lord, through and through. They were too young to have been involved when the Dark Lord first rose to power. They were still students then. But when the time came, they knew which side to stand on. They knew where it was better to be.

Besides, their Dark Lord had miraculous plans to reshape the Wizarding World. Heh. Those stupid muggles wouldn't know what hit them.

These Death Eaters, disregarding their lanky and somewhat unkempt appearances, were not stupid men. That was why, when Bellatrix Lestrange came prowling through, they stepped aside without a word, and let her pass.

Mister Crump and Mister Finn knew well that making Bellatrix Lestrange obey Lucius Malfoy's rules would inevitably result in their untimely demises. You just didn't stand in the way between a woman and her mission, and certainly not in the way of, possibly, the single most psychotic woman in British history.

Witch or otherwise.

Bellatrix opened the doors with a flourish, closing them behind her with gentleness opposite to the way which she'd entered. She smiled sweetly at her Dark Lord, giving him a sweeping curtsey.

"My Lord," she greeted, her voice a loving coo. Her eyes danced excitedly, as the man who was her Master stood and turned to face her.

A smile curled onto his face, his pale hands coming together as he regarded her.

"Bellatrix," he greeted back, though his voice was not nearly as endearing as hers. It was gentle, nonetheless. Much gentler than he greeted any other of his servants. After all, she was one of his favourites.

"What brings you here?"

"Severus brought me news of _them_. I felt it was necessary to deliver his word personally," she said. She sat down on the ground, tucking her legs back under her dress, using her hands to smooth out the tattered black lace like a cascading circle around her.

Voldemort smiled. "Your instincts are sharp as ever, my dear. Now, what of the news?"

Bellatrix leaned forward as she spoke - a puppy that was eager to please.

"Their behaviour has been perfect, he says. They don't punish often, which is annoying, but do their job nonetheless," a wicked grin curved her blood red lips, "his words exactly. Though _I_ think that perfect behaviour is far, far too perfect for them. We don't know something, My Lord."

Voldemort sighed heavily, a small, twisted smile curving his lips. He sat back down in his massive, stone chair, interlacing his fingers. Nagini slithered to his feet, curling up beneath her Master.

"I feared this would happen. It's such a pity. If we find they've betrayed us..." he trailed off.

Bellatrix leaned even closer, eager to hear his verdict. She licked her lips, feeling anticipation ticking at the edges of her mind.

"What shall you do, My Lord?" she queried, her voice soft.

Voldemort let out a second sigh, touching his lips with his fingers in a gesture of faux disappointment. "I'll have no choice, it seems, but to let you silence the boy's father."

The wicked smile grew larger. "It would be my pleasure, My Lord."

"See to it that Severus is more observant of them."

"Of course, My Lord. Shall I silence the filthy muggle anyways? To send a warning? It seems that they need it."

Bellatrix's eyes were wide, fervent and waiting, like a puppy ready to please. She smiled sweetly up at her Dark Master. She would do anything for him.

"No. Not yet. Let's not be too hasty," he answered, "or their obedience may be unsalvageable."

She curtsied again, so low that her nose almost brushed the floor. She snapped back up into a stand a second later, her eyes wild. She turned on her heel and pulled her wand out, pointing it at the doorway from which she'd come.

Voldemort sneered, his glowing red irises shining like fresh blood in the cold, dark room. "Such a pity," he whispered, so quietly that only he and Nagini had a hope of hearing.

He smiled.

Mervillus Crump and Percival Finn were intelligent men. Which was why the two of them exchanged glances of dread as manic laughter echoed from inside their Dark Lord's private chambers.

Silence. Waiting.

Bellatrix Lestrange blasted the doors open with her wand, cackling with insane excitement. She could feel war brewing. It was more exciting than ever.

The last thing Mervillus Crump and Percival Finn saw was a flash of green light as - in her raging fit of pleasure - Bellatrix Lestrange, the most psychotic woman in British history, killed the both of them.

* * *

Draco Malfoy slumped back down into his chair. He'd expected some kind of panic, like hearing the words "you die" would activate of some kind of flight instinct inside his brain. The words had done nothing. Nothing.

It was almost like he was entirely desensitized from the concept of his own death. Wonderful.

Suddenly, he felt tired. Immensely so. Whether that was from the weight of his present situation or disappointment over his considerable lack of reaction, he wasn't sure.

"You okay, there?" Malik queried. Out of the two of them, Malfoy had known that Malik was a little more considerate of others' emotions. Still, he hadn't expected any kind of empathy from the blonde. It was a tad surprising.

Malfoy nodded mutely. He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, placing his chin in his palm. What a mess. What a complete and total mess. Choosing to fight against the Dark Lord had placed him in what could possibly be the worst situation he had ever faced.

Moments passed, the small clock on the wall ticking away as if nothing had transpired.

"What..." he trailed off, working his jaw, trying to find the words to accurately describe his emotions at that moment. It wasn't often that one stood at a crossroads, knowing all three ways that their life could pan out. He sucked in a breath, and continued: "what do you mean, exactly, by 'I die'?"

Bakura's face was completely devoid of expression. Still, he was the one to answer. "Exactly that. What else would it mean?"

"Well..."

"How exactly do you die?" Malik offered, moving to the side so that he could lean against the wall.

"Something like that," Malfoy agreed, grateful that Malik was finding words where he could not.

Once again, it was Bakura who answered. "Since your first option, the one where we tell you everything and you follow through with our conjoined plans, will likely lead to your death anyways...the third option really only goes one of two ways. One," he flicked a finger up, just for good measure, "we tell you everything and you decide to go off yourself. Tonight. No questions asked."

Malfoy shivered, a little bit. Not exactly something he wanted to hear. Then again, what was, lately? It seemed like everything, this past while, had consisted of unwanted facts and unnecessary stupidity.

"Two, we tell you everything, and then we kill you. Tonight. No questions asked, with exceptional cover up. We will not be caught."

Malfoy repressed the strong urge to shudder again.

"You do realize that the third option is where what we tell you is so traumatizing that you feel you can't go through with any of this, and death is your only way out?" Malik interrupted, making very deliberate, very steely eye contact with Draco.

"Nice run-on sentence." Bakura commented. Malfoy wasn't surprised that the pale young man wasn't taking the situation seriously. After all, Bakura definitely seemed like the kind of person who really only got concerned when it affected him directly.

Malik threw the other male a very annoyed glare, "is this really the time for jokes?"

At least Bakura had the good grace to look like he'd been rightfully corrected. Still, there was no apology or shame exhibited from the white-haired...whatever he was.

"So," Malfoy said, "in essence, I really only have two choices. One or two." His first two options. The third one was so ludicrous that it barely even registered as a possibility. Malfoy knew that he would probably never have the resolve to kill himself. He also knew that, no matter what these two had to say to him, they wouldn't let their plans go so completely to waste as to end him themselves.

Bakura grinned slightly. Ah. So they _had_ known that the third option was just a scare tactic.

"Essentially, yes. Your first two options are really the only ones that will have any follow-through. Besides, as you know, the third one will inevitably lead to either the first or the second."

Since he wouldn't kill himself, that choice led to him following them and going through with everything anyways. And they wouldn't kill him. They'd just remove him as a threat by severing his connection to their magic, since he'd never go back to the Dark Lord. Option number two.

"Clever." Malfoy breathed, as if the option had just hit him.

Malik sighed. Bakura didn't really react at all.

_If I survive this whole thing, _Malfoy thought, _it will be a wonder if I don't end up with irreversible mental damage. These two are more cryptic and confusing than Dumbledore was._

He inadvertently winced at the name - and the memories it stirred up.

Dumbledore was not someone that Draco Malfoy wanted to think about. Not now. Not when his attention had to be elsewhere.

Well...

His first option was to follow through with everything he'd started. He would completely sever all ties he had with the Dark Lord, aside from a silent promise to help bring about his end. He would sever ties with his family. With the only life he'd ever known.

Or, he could do the easy thing. He could sever all ties to this ancient magic, this shadowy power that he knew nothing about. He could stand on the sidelines and live to tell the tale of the greatest Wizarding War of all time. He would survive.

_"It's the easiest and safest choice that's open to you."_

What if he didn't want to be safe?

What if he didn't want to die, either? If he lived...

But what for? What would he be living _for_? All of the doubts that he'd had...everything that he'd decided was so utterly _wrong_ about his life...would he just forget about that? Forget that he could do the right thing? Forget that he could help stop Voldemort from killing countless people, wizard or otherwise? Could he do that?

How was he going to see himself, ten years down the road? Would he regret sitting on the sidelines? Would he regret not doing the right thing in favour of the easy thing?

What would Dumbledore say?

The last words the Headmaster had ever spoken to him passed through his mind's eye, only for a second.

Those simple words were enough.

A grim smile worked onto Draco's face. _Well, since I feel like being a martyr today..._

"Number one."

Both of the other males looked up, blinking.

"Huh?" Malik intoned brilliantly, both of his eyebrows shooting up.

This time, Malfoy did look irritated. "I said 'number one'. That's my choice."

"You do realize how stupid you are, right?"

The insult came from Bakura, obviously. Malfoy threw him a cheeky, somewhat animalistic smile. "Yes. But I'm sick of doing the safe thing. It's about damn time I made my life interesting."

"Yeah, yeah." Bakura mocked, "you'll feel like a hero for ten seconds, and then you'll get killed."

Malik elbowed the white-haired male, a small grin on his own face. "Give him some credit. He's not _that_ stupid. Eleven seconds, at least."

The two of them laughed together. Comrades sharing a rare, happy moment in a time of grave sorrow. It was almost refreshing to see - that people could still be people, even when times were hard. It made Draco feel so utterly human, so very _normal..._

"Perhaps Potter was onto something, here," the young wizard mused aloud. "This whole 'good guy' thing isn't looking so bad."

"Like I said," Bakura replied smartly, "you'll change your mind."

"In T-minus four seconds, I reckon." Malik added.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Draco Malfoy laughed.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk, grading papers for her third year class. It was such a mundane task, something that she did so often, it almost made her forget the impending terror lurking behind the scenes.

Her eyes trailed to the door, thoughts drawn to a place she hadn't wanted them to be drawn to. Somewhere she'd been avoiding.

"_What if someone you love has been put on the line because you were stupid? What if that person will die if you even attempt to sever those strings?"_

That boy. There was something so...so very innocent about him. How could a boy that seemed that young, that honest and so very _good_...how could he serve the _Dark Lord_?

_"Then you need to understand the meaning of sacrifice. It's inevitable in war."_

McGonagall rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. This wasn't something that she could be thinking about. She needed to focus on more important matters.

_But what if they _are _important? What if they hold the key to helping end this war?_

"They're just children."

_So is Harry Potter. He's just a child. No older or younger than they are._

"They were not a part of the prophecy."

_And you thought that prophecies were poppycock for most of your life. Does their absence from the prophecy mean that they can do nothing?_

"This isn't their battle to fight. They have no part in this."

She knew that was a lie.

_"What if someone you love has been put on the line...?"_

Her logic told her that they were just putting themselves right in the middle of something they knew nothing about and had no place in. They were obviously not from Britain. They were obviously not wizards. They obviously knew very little of anything that was going on around them. All evidence pointed to the fact that they were sticking their noses into something they could not possibly understand the full weight of.

Why were they here? What did they have to do with any of this?

_"What if that person will die...?"_

McGonagall put her head in her hands. She knew she was wrong. Just because they only had one person to fight for didn't mean that they had no right to be here.

What if they were lying?

They very well could be.

_But what if you are wrong? What if they're telling the truth?_

Suddenly, Minerva McGonagall felt very helpless, sitting there grading papers for her third year class. Her quill dropped from her hand, creating a large black spot of ink across the front of the parchment.

_Albus, what would you do?

* * *

_

"Are you sure that was smart, Bakura?"

The spirit glanced up, into Malik's worried, violet eyes. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking all too out of place and very uncomfortable.

He locked the door from which Draco Malfoy had left a few moments before, and turned back around to face the blonde fully.

"Relax," Bakura advised, crossing the room and dropping down onto his bed. "You'll give yourself an aneurysm."

"Stop being funny. You know that we're in some deep shit."

Bakura's eyes flickered with emotion that Malik could not decipher. They'd come and gone too fast. The Spirit of the Ring flopped onto his back, eyes focused on the stone ceiling of their room.

"I know."

No jokes. No mocking Malik's mouth or his lack of eloquence. No padding, lying, or reassurance. Just a simple "I know".

"He could die, Bakura." Malik said emphatically, his eyes hard as flint. "Sure, we told him most of everything, but he doesn't have a clue what he's getting into."

"I know."

"Is that all you can say?" Malik exploded, "just 'I know'? I've killed enough in my lifetime. I don't want some kid's life on my hands! Not when he followed us, thinking that we could help him do some good for his world! Are you saying that-"

"I know, Malik! I know!" Bakura shouted, jerking up into a sitting position.

Malik's mouth snapped shut.

Bakura took a deep breath, "I know what we're doing," he said. "I know what we're getting him - all of them - into. They're just kids, I know. They don't know the seriousness of it. I know that. But he had every right to make his choice. After all we're going to take away from him, I won't take that. Not his freedom of choice. When it boils down to it, that's all you ever really have."

"But your vision-"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, we have to focus on the Snake Bastard."

Malik hesitated for a moment, but continued. His voice was soft when he spoke, "you know what's going to happen, though. Voldemort's going to get way stronger. At the rate we're going, everything you saw is going to come true. Those stupid Deathly Hallow things you saw...they can't do a thing against _Him_."

"No, they can't."

"Which screws over Harry Potter, _Superman_ of the Wizarding World."

Bakura inclined his head slightly, hair falling down in front of his face.

"Well?"

"Yes," he agreed, "but only if he faces _Him_ alone. If we..." he trailed off, biting back his words bitterly.

Malik sighed, running a hand through his hair. He dropped onto the ground, sitting cross-legged. He leaned his back up against the side of the chair, bowing his head.

"I can't say that I know what facing_ Him_ will be like for you. I just...we need to do something. At this rate, Voldemort's going to find out about our magic. More than he ever should. He'll resurrect Him, Bakura."

Silence from the ancient thief.

"But we can stop it," Malik continued, enunciating every word carefully. "We can prevent _Him_ from coming back. If we do something now...we can make it as if we had never been here in the first place. Everything will go exactly as it should have been - with us out of the picture."

Bakura still said nothing.

"Your vision-"

"Ryou's vision," he corrected harshly, his voice rough.

Malik frowned, interlacing his fingers in front of him. "Ryou doesn't remember it. That makes it your vision, now."

Bakura looked up, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He moved his lips, but no words came out. His brow furrowed in frustration, and he swallowed, trying to control himself.

"I'm not going to pretend that this is going to do a damn thing to save anyone." Bakura hissed, eyes glowing a haunting red in the darkness.

"Nobody's asking you to."

A cryptic smile twisted onto his lips. "How I wish that was true."

"You're scared."

Bakura's hands fisted tightly.

"Of _Him_."

"Listen," Bakura drawled, his voice even, "we're about to step into a battle involving the most powerful dark force to have ever existed - at any point in time. At his control will be the most powerful dark force of the modern age."

"I know that."

"So, it's just going to be us and some wizards. An ex-mercenary, a teenaged hikari, and a tomb robber. You sure we stand a chance in Hell?"

"Probably not," Malik answered with a nonchalant shrug, "but it never hurt to try."

"We don't have a hotshot Pharaoh, this time around. No matter how bad this gets, he will not be able to help us."

"Why not?"

"He's currently preoccupied with Atlantis."

"...Come again?"

Bakura did not bite. He closed his eyes, feeling the strain that the day had had on him taking its toll. His body ached for rest. His mind ached for release.

_"Damn it, Ryou, the one time I want you to take control..."_

But there was no answer. He didn't expect one. Ryou was still unconscious - overwhelmed by the power of his own Shadow Magic.

And for the first time in many millennia Bakura the Tomb Robber, the Spirit of the Millennium Ring, felt truly helpless.

He shall come. And the sun will be swallowed once more by the Shadows of an Ancient Evil.

* * *

From inside the small motel that she and Rishid had rented - Ishizu Ishtar felt a shiver, accompanied by a stomach-dropping sense of dread, pass through her.

Her eyes opened slowly, unseeing in the darkness of their room.

"Please," she whispered, "be safe, little brother."

End Chapter

I know it's choppy (as in it jumps from person-to-person). I wanted it that way. Since things are about to get nuts, I wanted to convey some of the...emotions being felt by others. Besides, we haven't seen McGonagall in...freaking forever!

I am sorry about how long it's taken to update. I hope this made up for it, even just a little bit.

Out-Of-Control-Authoress


	20. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Well, here be chapter twenty. I worked my butt off to get this one out as fast as I could. School just gets tougher and tougher as the years go by...which means less and less time for the more important things - like fan fiction! O-O

I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. Yes, yes, it was choppy. Sorry. Hopefully this one is better.

Disclaimer: Denial - definition: an author who refuses to believe that she doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh and Harry Potter. Which she doesn't. She had to be tied down to a chair for this to be written. Please don't sue!

(laughs) Besides, I'm a student. What money are you going to get out of me? Two dimes and a gum wrapper?

Chapter Twenty

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Ryou woke up to the sound of Malik ranting about something. Out loud. To Marik, he assumed. As terrifying the thought of Marik and Malik maintaining conversation was, it would be worse to think that Malik had finally lost his marbles.

_"Not that he had any to begin with." _

The pervasive thought inside his mind was followed by a deep, familiar chuckle. Ryou almost smiled.

_- You're in a good mood. -_

There was a pause between the two of them. Bakura appeared to be thinking about the statement, and thinking very hard. Harder than Bakura usually thought about things that trivial.

_"Just...an accepting one," _the spirit said finally, his voice holding an unusual tone to it that Ryou couldn't decipher.

That was a little worrisome.

_- Heh? -_

_"Never mind."_

Ryou sighed. For someone who was so incredibly involved in the situation - he _was_ half the reason they were here in the first place - he certainly felt quite left out most of the time.

"And furthermore, I don't give a _crap_ why you did it - next time, you're forward with me, got it? This is _my _body, and since you're not as crazy as you used to be, we're going to run things diplomatically! Yeah, that's right. Diplomatically means not taking my body over whenever you want to. Well, if you do feel the need to take control, at _least _forewarn me! Yeah. No duh you have to leave me conscious! I don't care if there's no fun in that, I-"

"Er...Malik?"

The young man stopped his yelling, his arms frozen midway up, almost like he was about to "hail Mary", or something. His face flickered from annoyance to relief in an instant.

"Ryou!" He exclaimed, dropping his arms to his sides. "You feeling better?"

"Um...I suppose so. Why? Did something happen?"

Ryou didn't need to be informed. He was well-acquainted with the pull of the Shadow Magic. He knew that their abilities had returned - fully, this time. However, what he didn't know was why he'd randomly been knocked unconscious. Had someone done that...?

"The strain of the magic on your mind was too much. It knocked you clear out for the entire night." Malik explained, guessing Ryou's thoughts.

"Oh. I see."

But Ryou didn't see. There was something incredibly off about everything, from the way that Malik's expression looked guarded - a face that was very carefully composed to look just how Ryou would expect it - to Bakura being so silent and...calm.

He knew full well that he was missing something. Something big. If the hole in his memory from a little while ago wasn't enough, then this certainly proved that something was happening that Bakura didn't want him to know about. That Malik was in on.

_- Yami, what happened last night? -_

_"Nothing too incredibly special. Aside from the Headmaster being on our side."_

_- What? -_

_"Here. I'll show you."_

Flickers of the previous night danced across Ryou's mind. The Headmaster's study. The note. The realization that Headmaster Snape was working against Voldemort.

Bakura was picking and choosing - very cautiously - what to show Ryou, though. He could tell. Very little of it made sense. He was getting only small sections of the timeline. Bits and pieces of cut-off sentences. Conversations that he saw the beginning and end of - but never the middle. Malfoy's reaction to his possible fates. Bakura and Malik's cruel joke about three choices when there were only two. Testing Malfoy's trust in them. Testing his loyalty, through roundabout means. Testing whether or not he had the guts to go through with everything that lay before them.

Then they told Malfoy. Everything from Bakura's existence to Malik's past. Only the necessary parts, though. Malik's glyphs, the true reason why Marik existed, Kul Elna...all of that was either left out or edited.

Then Malfoy stood up to leave, informing them that his roommates were going to get awfully suspicious, since he had only one girl covering for him, back in the Slytherin dorm. Besides, he had to digest all the information. Bakura and Malik had agreed. It was a lot to take in, in one night.

Ryou watched as the memory of Malik turned to face Bakura. _"Are you sure that was smart, Bakura?"_

_"Relax, you'll give yourself an aneurysm."_

_"Stop being funny. You know we're in some deep shit."_

_"I know."_

Then Malik exploded, yelling at Bakura about being so calm. Malfoy could die. Getting involved with them was a serious risk to take.

_"...Not his freedom of choice. When it boils down to it, that's all you ever really have."_

_"But your-"_

And the memory cut off. Ryou complained, but Bakura ignored him. Snippets, again. Kind of like he was Malfoy - only getting part of the story for his "safety".

It was horribly irritating.

"Why are you hiding things from me?" he asked Bakura aloud.

He stopped for a moment, realizing that Marik probably knew all of it, too. He was well aware that Malik knew. He rephrased the question, the irritation seeping into his voice. "Why are you _three_ hiding things from me?"

Bakura was silent.

Malik hesitated, looking like he really didn't know what to say. Looking like he really wanted to tell Ryou something. Looking like he was _about to._

Ryou waited patiently, but there was a look to his face that said he wanted to know. That he needed to know.

Malik opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Please, Malik," Ryou whispered, his voice almost too low to hear. He could feel that feeling, that anger, welling up inside of him. He'd always resented being kept from the truth. This time was no different.

Malik looked agonized for a moment, his eyes flicking from Ryou to somewhere else and then back to Ryou.

"Malik...?" it was a question that held a hundred more questions. _What are you keeping from me? Why are you hiding this? Why won't you tell me? Can't you see this is driving me insane? What's going on? Why can't I know?_

And more and more questions. They almost bore a physical weight on the young Egyptian, standing there, looking like a deer in the headlights. He was stuck between his loyalty to both of his friends - and wasn't sure what he was supposed to choose.

Ryou said nothing more. Waiting. Waiting patiently, again. Praying that Malik would just...tell him.

Malik shifted, about to speak-

"Shut up, Malik."

The harsh words came out of Ryou's mouth, but they were straight from Bakura.

Anger sprang through the link. Anger that Bakura was so insistent upon keeping something from him. What, was he too weak to handle it?

_"That's not it at all, and you know it."_

"Then why?" Ryou shouted aloud, "why are both of you lying to me?"

"We're not lying to you," Malik pointed out, looking very calm and reserved again, his mask safely replaced. He wouldn't bend now. Not after Bakura's very plain order.

"What are you hiding from me?" Ryou asked, his voice back down to conversation-level. He knew that shouting wouldn't get anywhere with either of them.

"I-"

Ryou waited, waited as Malik choked on his words. Bakura remained silent, leering from within their mind. Lurking, ready to take control, should Malik say anything he wasn't supposed to.

He settled on: "it's nothing, Ryou. Honest."

Ryou closed his eyes. His hands balled into fists. This was what it was always like. He was always the weak link. They always did this to him. He just woke up from being unconscious for God-knows-how-long, and now he was being patronized like a child.

He was sick of this. So, so sick of this. Sick of being treated like someone less than he was. Sick of being underestimated and babied over just about everything.

Then he was told how childish he was, that he couldn't handle anything. It wasn't him. Everyone just refused to give him a chance.

He was so, so very sick of it. All of it.

"Fine," he bit out, standing up resolutely. "If it's 'nothing', then you won't have a problem with me excusing myself."

Malik looked ashamed, and he grabbed Ryou's shoulder, "come on, you know that-"

"No, I don't know," Ryou hissed, his voice laced with venom that was usually only heard from Bakura. It sounded so much worse - so much more hateful - when it came from Ryou. "That's the problem."

He shook Malik off and stormed out, leaving the door open behind him.

_"Ryou, go back to the room."_

_- Make me, - _he all but snarled. He was sick of Bakura, too, ordering him around like a puppy. Bakura was one of, if not the worst of all of them. Bakura underestimated him the most.

_"I do _not_, Ryou, and you know it!"_

_- Do I? - _

Ryou couldn't remember a time where he'd sounded so hateful. Sounded...so much like Bakura.

The thought almost made the spirit recoil. _"Hey, listen to me! It's for your own-"_

_- Do not, - _Ryou cut him off, _- Do _not _say that to me. Don't you dare. -_

He was through with this hypocrisy. With being coddled and then reprimanded for it.

He wasn't a child. He'd seen worse than most adults. He had every right to be treated like someone meaningful, someone valuable.

_"You are valuable, landlord. Stop this stupidity this-"_

_- Quit ordering me around, Bakura. I am not your slave. -_

No "yami". No friendly terms. Bakura.

It sounded cold, like the words froze bitterly the instant they passed through the link.

He could tell that Bakura was getting mad.

He didn't really care.

But anger didn't come, which was almost worse. Instead, Bakura's voice turned soft, calm, like he was speaking to someone who didn't have the capacity to understand anything.

Had Ryou not been so mad, he would have realized that it wasn't patronizing. Bakura was pleading with him.

_"Hikari, please-"_

_- Do NOT CALL ME THAT! - _Ryou shouted, making their link tremble with the force of his rage.

Then, with all his might, Ryou slammed the door between them shut, doing what he had never had the power to do before. He trapped Bakura, behind a door with a thousand locks. Locks that only Ryou had the keys to.

Bakura had never been compliant before. Never been trusting. Until now, Ryou had never been able to lock him away. Honestly, he'd never really wanted to.

_When he cares about you the most, you choose to close him off._

Ryou ignored the thought. He didn't need it. Bakura deserved it.

He could feel the faint pounding of Bakura against that door, trying to force his way out of his trap - out of the Millennium Ring that he'd spent so much time in, before he'd met Ryou.

And Ryou had forced the spirit right back into that golden prison - made of the flesh and bones of Bakura's own kin.

But the weight of his actions, of his hatred, was pushed back by the rush of power. Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, Ryou was in control.

He almost scared himself, with how much that pleased him. He ignored that.

Malik would follow him.

Ryou took off in a random direction, moving wherever his feet would carry him. Walls with moving picture upon moving picture blurred by, blurred together. He just had to get away. He had to be somewhere. Be alone. Be truly alone for the first time in most of his life.

Ryou had always hated the loneliness. It was something that he'd resented through his entire childhood. The loneliness of Bakura. Of what Bakura had been.

But now...now he needed true loneliness desperately. More than anything. More than any of the lies and half-truths that Bakura and Malik could offer to him.

The howling and the pounding moved farther and farther away.

Almost like he was giving up.

Steeling himself, Ryou pushed the thoughts back. Until he could be treated like someone worthwhile, someone important, then those two would just have to stay away.

In any way that was possible.

_You're being such a child. Proving them right. Proving it all right - that you're too weak to handle this._

Ryou's teeth grinded together. _Stay away, _he thought. _Stop trying to change my mind._

If he had been listening, he would have realized that his own mind was trying to change itself. Do the right thing.

But Ryou was far, far too angry for that.

Students that were up and on their way to class watched him warily. He must've looked more like Bakura than ever, because they were giving him distance. Considerable distance. It was almost amusing, that people were scared of him.

Well, they were scared of Bakura. Ryou almost snorted, unsurprised.

He rounded a corner, into a less crowded hallway. Everyone was coming down for breakfast in the Great Hall. If he wanted to be alone, he'd have to go somewhere far away from the heart of the school.

Perhaps the Astronomy tower?

As he passed a corridor with wide, bright windows, a row of small buildings covered in climbing plants caught his eye. The school's greenhouses. For their Herbology program, he thought.

Those were probably deserted, right?

He smiled. Perfect.

He ran into maybe ten students total as he made his way down to the greenhouses. By the time he'd made it to the ground floor, the entire area was deserted, almost ghost-like. Ryou suppressed a shiver.

Bakura had always made sure that nothing could-

No. No Bakura. Not right now.

His pace quickened as he walked to the greenhouse. His footsteps were shrill, the only sound as he passed through the long, outdoor hallway that lead to the stone-and-glass buildings he sought.

When he finally made it to the greenhouses, he walked to the end of the row and entered the very last one. He closed the door behind him gently, surveying the area around him.

Generally safe-looking plants surrounded him - a mixture of small flora and potted plants. No climbing vines, or vicious things with teeth. Lucky him.

He moved up the aisle, careful to keep his hands to himself. No matter how gentle the plants looked, Ryou knew better than to trust anything in the school. Most things that looked friendly had fangs hidden somewhere.

He stopped, in front of a tiny little flower that looked absolutely dreadful. Its leaves were limp, and the stem almost drooped, like the little plant had given up.

"It's called a Perennius Bloorus," a familiar voice said. Ryou didn't acknowledge the presence.

"Most people call it a 'runt flower', just 'cause it's so tiny."

Neville Longbottom sounded almost sad, saying that. He approached Ryou and the plant, a watering can in his hand, and tipped it into the small flower's pot.

Ryou blinked, momentarily forgetting his prior need for solitude. "Why don't you just use magic?" he asked, watching as the plant shivered.

"Professor Sprout says that you can't solve everything with magic. Some things just need to be _cared_ for. Besides," the young man smiled as Ryou stared with awe as the plant perked up immediately, shooting up to about four times its size, blooming a beautiful, massive, white-and-red flower. Neville set the watering can down on the table, "it's more fulfilling to watch a runt make something of itself, huh?"

Ryou did look up this time, into Neville's deep, deep eyes. There was an intelligence there, an understanding of every and all things that just looked far too old in the eyes of a seventeen-year-old boy.

There was also something else there - another kind of understanding. One that said that Neville knew what Ryou was feeling. That he could relate.

A little shrivel of doubt in Ryou's mind said that, unless the boy was the light side of a pompous spirit also, then the chances were slim. Very slim.

"You look upset." Neville pointed out, not saying anything more than that. He wasn't pretending that he knew why. He was just stating simple fact.

Ryou said nothing, just went back to admiring the tiny plant that had bloomed into something so beautiful. He reached out, fingers brushing against petals that felt like silk. He emitted a sigh, closing his eyes as he continued to stroke the plant's petals. The action was almost relaxing. The tension in his body had begun to wear away.

Amazing, how such simple action could bring about such a calming effect.

"It's nothing important, really," Ryou said softly.

Neville smiled gently, leaning against the workbench. "'Course it is. You wouldn't be upset, otherwise."

Ryou's head shot up, surprised.

Neville was watching him, his eyes looking ancient again. His smile was gone, replaced with a scrutinizing frown. He searched Ryou's face, looking for something.

"What is it?" the hikari queried, feeling a tad self-conscious.

He expected a 'nothing', just like everyone else said. "Don't worry about it", "it's fine", "it's 'nothing'".

Instead, Neville shrugged.

"I'm not too sure, myself," he paused, seeming to grasp for the right words, before continuing, "it's just...well...I didn't really know what to make of you, at first. Of either of you. There was Malik," Ryou noticed with vague amusement that he mispronounced Malik's name, "and there was you. You and your double personalities. Malik and his...I don't know. I shouldn't be saying this to you. It sounds awful."

"No," Ryou said, perhaps a little too panicky, "please, continue."

Neville examined him for a moment, but complied. "I couldn't find it in me to trust you," he admitted, looking abashed. "Not a bit. There was something so different about the two of you. Something that set you both so far apart from the rest of us that it seemed almost impossible to relate. I mean...You-Know-Who may be crazy, and he may be evil, but he's still a _wizard_. I can relate to that, no matter how much I want to."

He paused.

"But you two aren't wizards, are you?"

That face again.

Ryou smiled grimly, his lips a thin line. He felt like a criminal under interrogation - about to confess to murder.

"No," he agreed, "we aren't."

"Normally I'd just go off on 'what are you', and such, but..." he trailed off, and their eyes met. Neville's eyes were serious, weighted with a thousand invisible burdens. "I'm not going to. I don't want to."

"That would be your instinct." Ryou answered calmly. He was used to this: this natural fear that normal people - even wizards, it seemed - had for him. The natural aversion.

Neville rose an eyebrow, "but it doesn't make me scared of you." He said, guessing Ryou's sardonic thoughts.

That threw Ryou for a loop. His hand, that had been stroking the petal, froze mid-touch.

"How so?"

He barely managed to get the words out.

Neville shrugged again, looking all-too nonchalant for someone who had just admitted to knowing he was standing in front of someone very dangerous. Then again, perhaps this _was_ normal for Neville Longbottom.

"I have this whole idea," Neville said, "that, no matter how small you are, no matter how small you look, when you reach out and get a little bit of help, you can do great things. You can _be_ someone great." His face softened, and he too reached out to touch the flower.

"Isn't that right?" he asked the beautiful, blooming plant.

Ryou smiled.

"You certainly have a way with words," he commented briefly, and noticed that Neville's eyes were shining with something. Mischief? Pleasure? "Tell me, why did you really come here?"

"I saw you storming around, figured that if we're going to be hanging around each other for a while, I might as well try to make a better impression than the DA did." Neville admitted, not looking in the least bit sorry.

"Besides, I think I like you. You're honest."

Ryou blinked again, eyebrows raising.

"Well, _this_ you, anyways. The other one kind of scares me, I'll admit."

Both of them chuckled. Neville's was nervous, but Ryou's was just a little guilty.

_Bakura..._

Neville straightened up, dusting the back of his pants off. He turned towards the door, indicating that he was going to leave. "I've got class to get to. I'm late already, and that's going to give me trouble. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Ryou replied immediately, "it was nice talking to you."

Neville nodded. "Sorry it was so brief."

"Not a problem."

"Thank you," he said, before trotting out of the greenhouse. Ryou watched him until he disappeared from sight.

A tiny smile rose to his face.

"No, thank you."

Ryou sighed, turning to the plant that was sitting there in front of him. The beautiful, massive plant that had been so tiny and insignificant only moments before.

"I think that Neville boy is almost as weird as we are, huh?" he murmured thoughtfully, touching the flower one last time.

"I'd better go."

And Ryou left the greenhouse, walking towards the slope that he and Bakura had lay on only a short while ago. The cool breeze made goose bumps rise along his arms, but Ryou didn't really mind the cold, all that much.

_I feel colder than the wind is, _he mused sombrely.

The grass was dry, thank goodness. By the time Ryou got to just about the exact same place he'd occupied before, the breeze wasn't even noticeable. The only indicator that it was there was how it ruffled the white dress shirt that he wore, and tousled his hair about.

With a very heavy sigh, Ryou lay down in the grass. He stared up at the sky for a moment, unsure. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?

Ryou closed his eyes to the outside world, and opened them to the hallway that separated his and Bakura's minds.

_An odd sensation of déjà vu hit him. Had their roles not been switched some time ago, when Ryou found out about his father's captivity?_

_It was almost laughable._

_Gently, hesitantly, Ryou knocked on the door._

_"Baku-" Ryou corrected himself, "Yami...? Are you there?"_

_No answer._

_Ryou pressed his hands gently against the door. To his surprise, it swung open easily. The soul room was dark, impossibly dark, when he entered. The only source of light was from the dim lighting of the hallway._

_"Yami?"_

_There still no answer._

_Ryou took a step forward, and light burst out around him. He had to shield his eyes, for a moment._

_Heat exploded around him, unusual for Bakura's common tastes. Ryou opened his eyes, head angled downward. Sand. There was sand beneath his feet. Confused, Ryou dropped his arm and looked around him._

_No. Oh, oh God no._

_The empty village rose up around him, but instead of something tangible, the buildings looked more like slides on a video. _

_Kul Elna._

_And there, sitting in the centre of it all, was Bakura. He sat on a wooden chair, out-of-place for the scenery. He was dressed in an odd red robe, his skin tanned and his hair shorter than usual. There were chains on his arms, chains made of solid gold._

_He looked up. Light violet eyes, and a horrible scar running from his brow to his cheek._

_He looked calm, not nearly as tortured as Ryou knew that he was. His expression looked normal, almost like the hell that was happening around him...almost like he was blind to it._

_Perhaps he was._

_"Ry...ou?" the spirit asked hesitantly, as if he wasn't exactly sure Ryou was real. He looked confused, a little. He probably hadn't expected Ryou to return so soon. It'd barely been a half-hour._

_Ryou nodded, unable to find any words to say._

_Kul Elna vanished, replaced with an undecorated stone room, lined with torches. It was small, but not cramped. The chains around his yami's wrists vanished also, leaving no marks, nothing to say that they'd even existed._

_The stone room was a bar. So that Ryou didn't have to see Bakura's memories again. The first time, it had almost been enough to put Ryou into a mental state. Bakura wouldn't do that again._

_Ryou felt tears brimming at his eyes, but he willed himself to be strong._

_He had done this. He had forced Bakura back to his chamber. He should have known that using force would do something like this. Force Bakura to relive something like this._

_Finding no other adequate words, Ryou clasped his hands together._

_"I'm sorry."_

_But the words hadn't come from him._

_His head snapped up, his eyes confused. What? Had Bakura just...?_

_Bakura was wearing a funny kind of expression, something between cynicism and shame. _

_"No," Ryou said, shaking his head, "that's not right. I'm sorry. I got mad. It was stupid, I was just-"_

_"I shouldn't have kept things from you." Bakura interjected, his voice calm, but his eyes saying otherwise. _

_Ryou sighed, taking another step towards Bakura, who hadn't moved from the chair. "No. If it was something you felt that strongly about..."_

_Bakura was up and standing right in front of Ryou before the boy had even had time to blink. Bakura's hands were on his temples, then._

_"It is something I feel that strongly about," Bakura murmured, his voice low, "but it is something I also had no right to hide from you."_

_Suddenly, with zero warning, a thousand things flashed across Ryou's mind._

_His knees buckled, and he hit the ground._

_Bakura had grabbed him, to somewhat cushion the fall, but it hadn't helped much. Ryou's eyes were wide, his mouth open. He took a deep, shaking breath._

_"Was that...my vision?"_

_Bakura squared his jaw and his eyes tightened. An affirmative._

_Ryou tried to stand up, orient himself, do _something_. The world was spinning though, uncontrollably, like someone had taken the Earth's axis and just whipped it like a merry-go-round. _

_"Oh...oh my..."_

_That horrible _thing_. Was that what was coming for them? What awaited them at the end of the journey?_

_They were doomed. So, so very doomed. How were they to overcome something like this?_

_Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted that there was something blocked. Something to do with his father. A painful sensation in his chest told him that he had an idea what this was, but he didn't want to face that._

_Not ever. He just couldn't do that. _

_"Ryou..." Bakura murmured, helping Ryou to his feet. "Are you okay?"_

_He said it like he knew the question was futile. His Yami knew that Ryou would most certainly _not _be okay. This wasn't something he could be okay about. This...none of this was "okay." Not even in the slightest._

_Bakura's grip tightened on Ryou's shoulders. "I didn't mean-" he looked like he was struggling for words. "If I'd...I just couldn't..." he took in a shuddering breath. Right. What Ryou had seen...it was so much worse for Bakura than anyone else.  
_

_"I didn't want you to see what's waiting for us. What's coming." Bakura settled on saying, his voice full of that emotion that Ryou could never fully comprehend. _

_But Bakura never said "what might come". He never said that it was "just a possibility"._

_Because no matter what he told Malik, no matter what he could say at all...it didn't change that this was the future they faced. _

_There was no escaping it._

_Bakura's face blurred for a moment, and Ryou stumbled forwards. A funny expression crossed the spirit's face. His mouth moved, but Ryou couldn't hear any words._

_Him..._

_Him..._

_He was coming. Him. It had always been Him. He was lurking behind all darkness, wasn't He?_

_There was a deafening crack in his ears._

_"Ryou? Ryou! Oi, landlord, hey! Answer me, Hikari!"_

_For some reason, he couldn't feel his legs anymore._

_" Ryou! Ryou! Oi!"_

_His head felt fuzzy. The world was spinning again. More violently, this time. A distant memory, one that was not his, produced a terrifying set of ancient red eyes._

_Red eyes that, deep down, he knew._

_"Ryou...? Oh, shi-"_

_Ryou collapsed._

* * *

Malik was upset. Beyond upset. If that damn Bakura had just...

Well, as much as he wanted to blame the Spirit of the Ring, it was as much Malik's fault as it was Bakura's. Malik had agreed that Ryou shouldn't know. Malik had agreed that some of the consequences of his vision were just too much.

He remembered the first time that Ryou found out about his father's kidnapping. He didn't even want to think about how Ryou would react to finding out about his father's...

"Muggles are known widely, in the Wizarding World, as a lesser evolutionary species. Their lack of magical ability proves their almost near-neanderthal shape of mind. Muggles _are not_ intelligent. Remember this, should you ever face one, which you undoubtedly will. They're like rats, class. They are very hard to get rid of, and they infest and infect our world like vermin."

Malik snorted softly from the back of the class. He'd gone on patrol anyways, to clear his head, since Ryou would not return to their room any time soon.

He'd ended up in a "Muggle Studies" classroom, taught by their lovely friend, Alecto Carrow.

She talked about normal humans like they were single-celled organisms. How "stupid" and "uncultured" and how "violent" they were. And Malik, sitting there, was finding extreme humour that a _Death Eater_ was calling the non-magical human race "violent".

Neville Longbottom, the kid who ran the DA, had come stumbling in a few minutes ago. He looked appropriately ashamed for being late, but there was something else. He looked..._happy_ about something.

Like he'd finally come to terms with something.

The kid was at his desk, now. He was ignoring the entire lecture, staring off into space. His expression was stoic, like he was going to block out this teacher's venomous words with all that he had.

"Mister Longbottom," Alecto Carrow snapped. Oh. She had noticed. "Do you intend to ignore my lecture for the duration of this period, or are you going to listen properly?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he replied in a very calm, very smooth tone, "but I fail to understand this lecture."

"How so, Mister Longbottom?" A challenge. Challenging Neville Longbottom to stand up to her behaviour.

And he took the bait. Very willingly, Malik noted.

"I don't know, ma'am, I just have always been taught in Muggle Studies that we are the _same _as them, only with magic. We're all humans, aren't we?"

She smiled, a little too sweetly for how evil she was. "Mister Longbottom, we are all evolved from monkeys, but that does not put us on the same level as _monkeys,_ now does it?"

Neville snorted loudly.

She approached the desk, tapping her wand against it with very obvious warning. "I can understand your predicament, Mister Longbottom. After all, you must be terribly upset. You must be defending your mostly-muggle blood."

Some of the little snots in the class started snickering.

Wrong, Malik noted. He was pretty sure that he'd heard something saying that Neville was a "pureblood" wizard. Almost no muggle in his bloodline at all.

"Can I ask you something, ma'am?" he queried loudly. There was a very innocent smile on his face, one that was almost as creepy as the Carrow's.

"Well," his face turned cold, the smile going steely, "how much muggle blood do you think you have in you?"

Alecto Carrow froze. Every snickering student went silent. Every kid in there sat, mouth agape, eyes huge with fear, shock, _disbelief._

Malik had to force himself not to burst out laughing.

Alecto Carrow raised her wand, and shot a silent spell out. It flashed across Neville's cheek, and the boy winced slightly. A long, deep gash ran across Neville's cheek, but he refused to acknowledge it further, just staring defiantly into her eyes.

"It's kids like you that give wizards a bad name," she hissed, "you filthy little muggle-lover."

"Better that than worshipping _Voldemort._" Neville snapped, his face going red. He looked like he really wanted to kill her. Malik didn't blame him.

"Do not refer to his Dark Lord by his name! You scum!" Alecto screeched, raising her wand again.

Malik was up and over there in an instant, grabbing her wrist and flinging it backwards. All whisperings around them stopped, halted by Malik's actions. Alecto's eyes went wide, like she wasn't entirely sure what had just happened.

Malik shoved his hands into his pockets. "Give it a rest," he drawled, looking appropriately bored but annoyed.

"You!" She seethed, staring at Malik with an expression of mixed confusion and rage.

Malik was unconcerned. "Look, lady, I may be here for the Dark Lord's orders," he wanted to retch, referring to the Snake-Bastard in such an honouring way, "but I'm not going to let you kick kids around. You don't have that right."

"I have every right."

"Tell that to our Dark Lord. Does inspiring fear in them sound like the way to bring them into our cause?" the look on her face was enough to say that he had her doubting herself over his bull crap. Malik grinned harshly, probably looking terrifyingly Death Eater-like to the students sitting around him.

"That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice husky but deadly. Malik knew just how to pull strings in someone's head to make them feel inferior, doubt their own thoughts, and then be convinced of his. He didn't need his Millennium Rod for all of his dirty work. Malik was an excellent manipulator.

It disgusted him.

Alecto Carrow replaced her wand back into her robe, flicking a stray strand of hair from her face. Straightening up, to gain some height, she composed herself. Eyes flickering dangerously, she turned, and stormed out of the classroom. No one dared snicker or even speak. Alecto Carrow was mad enough to kill.

Malik had humiliated her, after all. He'd probably just made a very dangerous enemy. It didn't concern him too much. Even the Snake-Bastard hadn't expected him to get along with his "loyal followers".

The room broke out into very quiet whispers. Malik carefully kept his expression stoic. He didn't want to attract any nasty rumours about him being a good guy. That would only cause complications...complications that he definitely did not want.

"Thank you," Neville murmured, his voice low. His head was bowed, so that other students wouldn't notice him speaking. His had was now on his face, using a handkerchief to press against the cut.

Malik looked around and noticed a few other students from the DA meeting. They watched him with careful gazes, calculating the weight of what he'd just done.

Well, plus for him.

In the back of the room, sitting alone at her desk, Luna Lovegood smiled at him. Malik gave a discreet nod in her direction.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and Malik's head snapped towards the door.

Alecto Carrow had stopped in the doorway, examining him with hateful, considering eyes. After a moment, she turned and vanished furiously down the corridor.

His stomach churned uneasily.

Suddenly, Malik had to wonder whether or not he'd just made a very grave mistake.

_One step forward, two steps back._

End Chapter

A tad shorter than the last few, I know. However, I really wanted to get this out ASAP. (giggles)

Yeah, that's right. I giggled.

And yes, I do have that annoying habit of incorporating the chapter title into the chapter. Somewhere. Often as a quote at the end. See above. (laughs evilly)

Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter, and of course, to everyone who's been reading thus far!

Feedback is always welcomed, so please, review!


	21. The Tangled Web

Whoo! Chapter twenty-one! Guys, we're closing in on the good stuff, here! (does a funky dance)

Thank you to all of my readers, thus far. Thank you extra-lots to my reviewers, who are lovely and wonderful and are probably going to give me a fat head, one of these days.

(hands out free cyber-cookies) Seriously, even though I cannot cook worth a crap, if I knew all of your addresses, I would deliver cookies to your houses. Personally. Since few of us likely even live in the same country, it would be expensive. But I would do it. (laughs)

By the way, you guys better be FREAKING HAPPY with this chapter. It's so looooong...

I'll be away from a computer for the next week and a half, which sets back chapter twenty two by another whole week, and considering I usually take, like, a month to update...(which I am so, so sorry for...)

Yeah. Extra long chapter, to make up for it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. I don't own Harry Potter. Now STOP POINTING YOUR COPYRIGHT PAPERS AT ME! (throws random female-protagonist mallet at the lawyers)

Chapter Twenty-One

The Tangled Web

_"You fool!"_

Ryou woke to the sound of Bakura shouting, presumably at Malik. Tiredly, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and slowly, very slowly, sat up in his bed.

Bakura was standing, in spirit form, near the bookshelf. Malik stood at the far end of the room, pacing like a lunatic. Marik, also in spirit form, was casually leaning against the wall. Bakura looked furious. Malik looked desperate. Marik looked decidedly amused.

"What's going on?" Ryou mumbled blearily, still far too tired to fully comprehend what was going on between the others.

Ryou's question was ignored, because Bakura just started shouting again.

_"Did you not even pause to consider that she'll know there's something wrong? You were whining about being too conspicuous before, and now you wind up making us the talk of the whole goddamned _school!"

"What's going on?" Ryou repeated, a little louder this time. The yelling was giving him a headache.

Marik's head lolled his way, and the dark spirit gave him a lazy grin. _"Malik did something stupid. What else?"_

Oh, yes. Malik's darker side was definitely enjoying himself, over there. He was looking all-too-pleased with the small mayhem going on between Malik and Bakura.

Malik fisted his hands in his hair, "look, I wasn't trying to be stupid. It just _happened_, okay?"

_"It 'just happened'? Well, maybe me killing you is going to 'just happen' in a few minutes, you_ stupid _mortal!"_ Bakura's voice was harsh, like he'd been going at Malik for a decent amount of time before

Ryou had woken up.

Ryou threw his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled into a stand. He was wearing his clothes from yesterday - albeit they looked like they'd been through a war and back. Certainly not how they'd appeared when...

He didn't want to think about what had happened before he'd fainted.

"Let's not go killing each other," Ryou said, stepping between the two. "Now, what happened?"

_"Malik," _Bakura began to explain, his voice full of very obvious anger,_ "decided to go and stand up to Alecto_ Carrow_ when she was delivering punishment to a student."_

Ryou blinked. At first, he wasn't really understanding the weight of it. Then, everything that had happened the day before sunk in. Ryou promptly sat back down on his bed, sensing weakness in his knees. Collapsing again would not be a good idea.

He ran a hand through his hair. This _was_ bad. If any of the Death Eaters at the school were given any kind of solid reason to suspect them...then they were done for. Voldemort may have been putting "faith" in them by sending them to Hogwarts, but Ryou knew that the man was the cruellest kind of dictator - even the slightest wind of disloyalty would give him complete incentive to crush them.

The only question would be whether or not he'd crush them through death, or crush them by breaking their will.

And Ryou knew full-well that his will would easily be the first to break.

Bakura, hearing his light half's tumultuous thoughts, moved unconsciously towards Ryou's seat on the bed. He didn't sit down beside him, or anything. He merely offered his presence as comfort in the subtle way that he often showed their connection.

Ryou felt warmth in his chest, very different from what he'd been feeling the day before. It made him realize just how stupid he'd been. He should have done things differently. He should have assured Bakura that he could handle it. Not throw a hissy fit.

He flushed embarrassedly at his own memory.

_"Che, I don't think I would have shown you if you'd done things any differently." _Bakura admitted, sounding properly apologetic.

Ryou chuckled lowly, but didn't bother talking about it.

_"So, what do we do?"_ Marik asked. He still sounded like he was enjoying himself, but at least he was making a slight effort to be useful. _"Do we kill a student and see if they approve?"_

Ryou seriously hoped that that was sarcasm.

Bakura threw the spirit a withering look. _"No, we are_ not _going to kill a student_," he told Marik, who rolled his eyes.

_"Damn, Tomb Robber_,_"_ Malik's dark side commented, _"you've gone brilliantly soft, in the time I've been gone. And here I thought that the behaviour two nights ago was just a ruse."_

For a moment, Bakura looked like he was going to bite. He really, really did. His mouth opened, ready to make a snappy comeback. Ryou could see Bakura's joints tense, like a cat ready to pounce.

Then he relaxed, and Bakura shrugged casually at the other spirit. _"Sorry to disappoint,"_ he answered flippantly, a vague smirk on his face.

Ryou's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He certainly wasn't disapproving of the reaction, he just...hadn't expected that out of Bakura.

_"I'm tired." _Bakura said through their link.

Bakura's state the day before flashed through Ryou's mind, though Bakura was not the one who'd sent the image. Ryou had conjured it up himself.

Guilt washed through him.

_- I'm sorry. -_

Bakura waved him off. _"Forget about it. We need to move on."_

Malik and Bakura's eyes met. Ryou could see the sharpness and rage in Bakura's. Malik looked like he wanted to apologize, but didn't really know how.

"It's not your fault," Ryou murmured softly. Malik's eyes snapped to Ryou's instantly, his surprise written all over his face.

Ryou offered a smile to his friend. "We can fix this," he assured all three of them, "this isn't irreversible."

Bakura, ever the pessimist, chose to disagree. _"We don't know that_," he pointed out. _"We have no idea what this means. Optimistically, this could be the first thing they've noticed. However, it could also be the final straw in a string of little things they've been keeping track of."_

It was like Bakura's words hovered in the air as all of them processed the reality of that. Malik looked particularly pained.

"So, you're saying I've either put us on red-alert with the Death Eaters, or I've screwed us over completely." Malik said quietly.

_"Yes,"_ Bakura's voice was sharp as a whip, _"that's exactly what I'm saying."_

Ryou winced at his dark half's tone. He knew that everything Bakura said was, in all essence, _true_. That didn't mean, though, that he had to go around kicking Malik for it.

"We can't just sit here and lay blame," Ryou interrupted, before Bakura could say anything more. "We need to do something, before this _becomes_ unsalvageable."

_"I agree."_ Marik piped up, his voice even. There was, however, a small note of interest colouring his voice. His eyes were half-lidded, and he was wearing that bored expression that he always had on his face. However, Ryou could see the faintest hint of a smile.

Bakura glanced over, an odd expression crossing his face. He examined the dark spirit for a moment before turning to Ryou, who was fidgeting with his hands.

"It's not that bad." Ryou mumbled. He was kidding himself, and he knew it. Even something this apparently small was enough to cause an earthquake in their situation. They were on thin ice, and this could very well shatter the surface.

"Yes it is," Malik said as he sat down with a groan, putting his head in his hands. "I can't believe I was that stupid."

_"I can."_

"Shut up, Marik. Stop trying to be funny."

Marik just grinned.

To the side, Ryou noticed just how Malik-like Marik had begun to behave. Everything from not taking things seriously, to being extremely sarcastic...the only difference was that Marik looked and acted a little crazier...and considerably more evil, most times.

Ryou took a deep breath and stood up, having assured himself that this time, he wouldn't collapse. "I've already said this, and I'll say it again: we can't change this. We're just going to move on and work with what we have, okay?"

_"Of course,"_ Marik answered immediately, that odd smirk on his face again.

Malik nodded, though he didn't appear too convinced. "Yeah," he mumbled. It would have been nicer to get a more confident answer from his friend, but Ryou could understand Malik's feelings. He felt like he'd screwed everything up.

Maybe he had, maybe he hadn't. Ryou didn't really want to worry about it. They all had bigger things to fret over.

Ryou glanced over at Bakura, who stood with his arms crossed. His eyes were dark and narrow, full of contempt. It wasn't necessarily for Malik directly, just for the situation in general. Ryou knew how hard Bakura had worked to keep this as under-wraps as possible, for the sake of Ryou's father. Now, Bakura was probably feeling a little helpless - something that Ryou knew Bakura didn't react well to.

"Let's go patrol the school," Ryou murmured, his voice soft, but pleading. He just wanted them to do something - something that wasn't sitting around and blaming each other. "It'll look better if we act normally."

Marik smiled mysteriously, _"Well said."_

With that, he vanished.

Bakura's eyes had locked onto the spot where Marik had been. He sneered at the empty air space, before deliberately catching Malik's gaze.

_"Your damn dark side is more irritating than a female." _Bakura snapped, before fading away also. Ryou could feel as Bakura's familiar presence settle into the back of his mind.

_- Really, was that necessary? - _Ryou asked. He could see the expression on Malik's face, the one that said he wanted to kill Bakura. Ryou knew for a fact that that look was _not_ coming from Malik.

_"Yes."_

Judging from the tone of Bakura's voice, it seemed he was not going to divulge further on the topic. Ryou blew out a sigh.

The murderous look had snapped off of Malik's face, as the two light beings stared at each other.

"So, are we going to go?"

Ryou nodded absently, moving across the room with slow, sluggish movements. "Yes," he replied after a moment, "just let me get changed." He made for the bathroom, but was stopped when there was a knock on their door.

The sound was steady, but had an odd undertone of urgency that put all four beings within the room on edge.

"Who is it?" Malik called out, his voice holding none of the stress it'd contained a moment before. He sounded casual but tired, like someone who'd just been woken up.

"You should answer the door, Ryou," Malik murmured softly, too softly for the visitor to hear, "you look like you just got out of bed. I'll go to the bathroom."

"It's a student. Please, I seem to have been the victim of a prank."

The voice was unmistakeable. Ryou made a beeline for the door, but Malik beat him to it, yanking the door open with much more force than was necessary. It slammed against the stone with a bang, causing Ryou to wince at the sound.

"Holy shit," Malik breathed.

Ryou jerked closer to the doorway, to get a sight of their visitor. Malik's statement had startled him with a cold, leaping sensation of worry.

And, as expected, there stood Luna Lovegood. Her appearance, however, was not nearly as familiar as he voice had been.

She was a mess. Her uniform was slick with mud, ripped and torn to almost unrecognizable shreds. Her blonde hair was dark from grime, and her face hadn't fared any better. A long, painful gash stretched from her jaw to her cheek bone, exposing torn and rippled skin, caked with dried blood.

"Luna..." Ryou choked, suddenly understanding why Malik was so shocked. "What...what happened to you?"

Her eyes snapped to his, her demeanour far calmer than either of theirs. "It's a frightfully long story."

"We have time."

Ryou blinked over at Malik, who was standing between Luna and the room, with an odd expression of concern and ferocity on his face.

Her eyes softened, "something happened to make you distrustful?"

"Please, come in," Ryou said, stepping back so that she could enter. Malik shut the door immediately, locking it.

Luna glanced backwards, concern flashing across her face.

"We're not going to eat you," Malik intoned. Had Luna not looked like she'd been through a war and back, the strained expression on Malik's face would have probably been a lazy grin.

"The bathroom's over there," Ryou said, ignoring the blonde's antics. Luna nodded quickly, and without a word, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Ryou turned to Malik, a wide-eyed expression on his face.

"What just happened?" Ryou asked. He just couldn't figure out how...

Bakura appeared between the two of them, his eyes fixed onto the door with a narrow-eyed, ruby stare. _"Something right on schedule,"_ he said cryptically, his voice low and rough.

Ryou turned to his yami with a surprised look, "you knew this was going to happen?"

_"I knew she'd be approaching us soon."_

Fear flashed across Ryou's mind, but he beat it down fiercely. He wasn't quick enough, though, because Bakura's eyes snapped to meet his own.

_"Landlord-"_

They were interrupted by the sound of running water. All three of them glanced at the doorway. A small coil of suspicion roused in the back of Ryou's mind.

"Well," Malik commented, "apparently she's got no issues with getting naked around us."

"Malik!" Ryou exclaimed in shock, elbowing the other male in the ribs. Malik hissed in pain, glaring at Ryou, promising revenge. Bakura grinned, a little like he was daring him to try.

"Overprotective bastard," Malik sneered at the spirit, who just shrugged, opting to neither confirm nor deny the accusation.

"What do we do?" Ryou queried, interrupting the confrontation before anything could come of it. "She's hurt."

_"She was attacked." _Bakura stated matter-of-factly, _"my interest, however, it exactly by whom."_

"Yeah, definitely attack," Malik agreed, casting a glance at the door. The sound of running water continued. "One of the snake-bastard's followers?"

Ryou shook his head, "I don't think so. We may not have been here long, but it hasn't happened before, and kids have done much worse things."

"We don't know what she might have done," Malik pointed out.

"But she doesn't seem impulsive," Ryou argued, "not really. I can't see her doing anything that would attract the kind of attention for them to just-" he cut himself off, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face. Ryou had never been comfortable with the concept of random, physical assault.

_"To just beat the crap out of her." _Bakura finished for him. _"I agree. They much prefer to make an example of their victims. This was far too...simplistic, for them."_

"Yeah, snake-bastard doesn't do the caveman thing," Malik snapped snidely, "he would rather kill people in _style_."

_"Shut up, Malik. We're not joking, here."_

"Neither was I." Malik said, his voice cold. His eyes flashed sharply.

_"Could have fooled us."_

Three heads swivelled around, to see Marik leaning casually against the wall, a wicked smile on his face.

Bakura looked less than pleased. _"And here I thought we'd been rid of you, for the time being."_

_"It's getting far too exciting to be absent," _Marik replied, ignoring the hostility, _"besides, it's rude to eavesdrop."_

_"Yes," _Bakura snapped, _"much better to drop in uninvited."_

_"It's much better that you have me here." _Marik looked amused, like he knew something that no one else did. This was, obviously, just ticking off Bakura even more.

_"Oh, really?"_

Marik nodded, his lips curling into a lazy, antagonistic grin. _"Of course. Who else would be here to tell you that the girl isn't showering, but in fact listening to every word we say?"_

It took the other three a moment to really comprehend that.

The suspicion that'd been in Ryou's mind, presumably coming from Bakura, exploded into something akin to rage.

"Get out here, right now, if you value your hide." Bakura hissed at the door, the expression on his face nothing less than murderous.

Caught red-handed, the bathroom door creaked open, and Luna stepped out. She looked no better than she had before. The water ran on behind her, her failed disguise.

"I'm sorry," she said. To her credit, she looked a little ashamed. "I had no choice."

Malik tensed, a veritable cat coiled to spring. "Why, exactly, were you listening in?"

"You were acting oddly," she answered simply. "I wanted to know why."

"And if it wasn't your business?"

Luna's eyes went sharp, in one of those moments where she expressed an unusual ferocity that rivalled that of Malik himself. "It became my business when you agreed to help us. I didn't know there was a problem until I got here."

Ryou stepped between the two, a distinct gesture for Malik to back off. They couldn't change what she'd done, so Ryou just changed the subject. "Luna, what happened to you? We need to know."

Luna stared at Ryou for a few seconds, scrutinizing him. Deciding that she really owed it to them, for eavesdropping and all, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her voice soft when she spoke. "A few Slytherins followed me into the Forest, when I was visiting the Thestrals. They've been lonely, you see. The boys didn't understand what I was doing. Since they've never seen death, they couldn't see the Thestrals. I guess they thought I was talking to myself. Frankly, if I was them, watching me talk to invisible creatures, I would have been hostile to myself as well."

Malik, Bakura, and Ryou visibly relaxed. Malik looked comfortable, now, with her presence. Ryou was still worried for her wellbeing.

Luna lifted her eyes, and stared directly at Bakura. "I suppose this is the slightly less personable version of you, Ryou. I should have guessed that he'd look like a wild child."

The fact that she had just referred to Bakura as a "wild child" would have contained much more humour had it not been so shocking that she could see him at all.

_"I thought I was only projecting my being to Shadow Users."_ Bakura stated very slowly, his blood red eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

The tension became notably thick, again.

_"Why can you see him, girl?" _Marik asked, pushing off of the wall so that he could stand tall, like a looming statue. The intimidation tactic didn't seem to faze Luna in the least, though.

Luna barely acknowledged Marik, aside from looking him up and down once, and then turning to Malik. "I wasn't aware that you were mixed up and split in two, like Ryou is."

Malik's mouth popped open, but no words came out.

_How the hell is she so damn perceptive? _Malik choked, through his link with Marik.

_(I am not sure. Should I be irritated or impressed?)_

_Impressed._

_"How can you see us?"_ Bakura rephrased, visibly annoyed that he hadn't received an answer to his question. His hand flicked automatically to the mock-Ring around his neck. Ryou's hand, influenced by Bakura's strong, instinctive reaction, found itself touching the cool metal of the real Ring.

Luna blinked, almost as if she were confused as to why, exactly, he would ask such an obvious question. "I've always had a tendency for seeing things that most don't. Take the Thestrals, for example. Very few people see them, myself included. I guess I can also include the Nargles, or the Crumple Horned Snorkacks. My father and I are really the only ones who've caught glimpses of those in recent years...but then again, not many people are very open to the things around them."

_(Is she under the influence of a human substance?)_

_I'm not entirely sure._

Taking their silence as an opening, Luna turned back towards the bathroom. "I really ought to be cleaning myself up. It's quite rude of me to be standing here, looking like this." She shot Ryou a glance that looked like she was asking if it was safe, "may I actually take my shower, now?"

_"Do you intend to pull another stupid stunt?"_

"No, mister-spirit, I don't," she answered with a smile. "I'm sorry again, to have tricked all of you. Except for the second mister-spirit. I suppose I didn't do much good at tricking him, did I?"

She smiled again, looking amused.

_(I like this human.)_

_For the sake of your massive ego._

_(Mm...yes.)_

She didn't wait for a response. She disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her softly. Ryou barely caught the sound of clothes hitting the floor. He glanced away from the bathroom door self-consciously.

_"Do mortals have an inherent inability to stay on track?" _Bakura demanded irritably, crossing his arms.

"Just this one," Malik answered, staring at the door with an expression of calculating trepidation. He was still notably wary of his stupid mistake with Alecto Carrow, and though Luna was a friend, he wasn't about to take any chances. None of them were completely sure of the wizards' capabilities.

That said, he was fairly sure that this was the real Luna. He doubted that anyone could pull off her...particular brand of personality. Other than for her wellbeing, none of them really had much to worry about, with her being there.

There was a small pulse of shadow magic, and the other three users turned to Marik, just as his eyes closed, and then reopened slowly, his deep, violet irises sliding to meet Bakura's. "She's no longer listening. Just in case, I've reinforced the door so that she can't listen in."

"Next time you use me to use your magic," Malik groaned, rubbing his arm slightly, "warn me."

Marik shrugged noncommittally. It was unlikely that he intended to remember to warn Malik at all.

Malik sighed. Yes, he thought, back on the track he'd been thinking along before. They really didn't have much to worry about. She was powerless, and was a fairly docile human being.

Still, Malik felt a curl of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that he did not take lightly.

_"It's the fact that her presence speeds along that timeline," _Marik said aloud, having heard Malik's thoughts. There was a dark smile on the spirit's face, even though his face bespoke boredom.

"Just because it happens to be the same as Ryou's vision," Malik interjected hastily, his voice betraying his urgency to cut Marik off, "does not mean that it's the same timeline. Similar things happen in opposite timelines, Marik."

_"I am aware."_

Though the words were conceding, Marik looked decidedly unconvinced. He fixed Malik with a look that said "stop trying to shelter him". Marik had been unusually vocal about Bakura's decision to leave Ryou out of the things before, and had been extremely smug when Ryou lost it earlier.

But that was easily chalked up to the fact that Marik felt neither compassion nor empathy, and he couldn't understand behaviour that was derived from such emotions.

It was a little too late, though, for Ryou had absolutely heard what Marik had oh-so-brilliantly decided to say. He looked away from the other three, his head bowed slightly, as to disguise his agonized expression. He'd been tortured with memories of his vision while he'd slept, and though he'd done a good job of hiding the scarring it'd left, it didn't mean he was over it.

"What..." Ryou began cautiously, his voice sounding like it was about to break, "was the next thing, after this, that jumped the...events that I saw?"

Malik's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "You don't remember?" he asked in surprise.

Ryou shook his head, "not clearly. Not all of it."

_"You didn't see the next event." _Bakura said, and their heads all swivelled towards him at the sound of his voice.

Marik even looked a little surprised. _"It wasn't a complete vision?"_

_"Mortal visions rarely are," _Bakura answered calmly. _"Aside from Ishizu's," _he added, as an afterthought.

"Aside from what her visions used to be," Malik corrected. "Her visions aren't complete anymore, without her Item."

_"Of course not. It was an amplifier." _Marik tagged on, looking oddly pleased with the fact that Ishizu wasn't as powerful as she used to be. Then again, she had been the determining factor, outside of the Pharaoh's work, to end his plans to destroy the world. He was probably still a little bitter.

_"Which proves my point." _Bakura stated resolutely, glancing around as if he were daring them to object.

Ryou didn't really care much about whether or not humans had specific or vague or complete or incomplete visions. He wanted to know why his was incomplete, why he was missing such a massive piece of the puzzle. Suddenly, like water in a drain, hope trickled away.

How was he to try to prevent a future that he couldn't even remember? How could he prevent something he did not know was coming?

_"We know that...something happens to lead us to the Malfoy Mansion." _Bakura explained, for Marik and Malik knew little of the details of the vision. _"Where..." _he trailed off, avoiding Ryou's gaze.

"Where everything goes wrong," Ryou mumbled. He could feel Bakura's eyes on him in concern, but the spirit did not press the matter.

Ryou was grateful, for that.

"How far does the vision go?" Malik asked. At Ryou's pained expression, the blonde winced slightly. "I know it's hard...but we need to know..."

"It goes to the point where...where what yami told you happened."

"Ah." Malik mumbled, having trouble really saying anything to that. He wasn't sure if there _was _anything to say to that.

_"Then why didn't you warn us of her arrival? You stated quite clearly that you knew she'd come." _Marik sounded irritated that he'd been left out of the loop.

_"You don't understand, do you?" _Bakura snarled, _"visions don't just show you the date and time of every damn thing that's seen. It shows events, but not specifics. If I were to see this conversation happening, if it were two weeks ago, I would not know that it'd occur two weeks from that time. The visions are also rarely accurate. They depict single hints towards situations, but rarely what happens exactly. The human mind can't predict the true, absolute future. It would be impossible - because the future isn't absolute."_

"It's kind of like seeing a trailer for a movie," Ryou supplied, catching the expression on Malik's face, "it's clips and sections of things - some that don't even make it into the actual film - that are going to happen. I've had visions with things that don't happen, and I've never had a vision of a full event."

_"Not that you've had tons of visions in the first place,_" Bakura added.

The sound of running water stopped, and the four males fell silent.

"I know that we can trust her," Malik said carefully, "but we should talk about this later. It's none of her concern...not any of them, really."

Ryou nodded. Bakura and Marik just opted not to say anything. Whether that was because neither of them particularly cared or they felt their agreement didn't need voicing, was undecided.

"We should get her something clean to wear," Ryou mumbled.

"What do you mean?" Malik asked, "we have all of three outfits, ourselves."

Ryou sighed, ignoring his friend's antics. Their suitcases from the entire trip, which had been recovered by some of the Death Eaters, had been raided pretty badly. None of their money was gone, but some of their clothes had been taken. As to why this was, Ryou couldn't be sure.

Malik had been annoyed about the money, but Ryou had pointed out that a group of wizards had little use for British pounds - they had a currency of their own.

He threw the top off of the suitcase, and snatched up a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He hoped that they wouldn't be too large on her.

_"You look like a girl anyways. I'm sure they'll fit just fine."_

_- In case you've forgotten, - _Ryou retorted grumpily, having never had much patience for cracks about his...slightly effeminate appearance, _- we look identical. - _

_"Hey, back in Egypt, I was ripped."_

_- Which stands to very little, considering how you look now. -_

_"Yeah, like you. Which brings us back to square one."_

Ryou sighed, folding the clothes over an arm. He really didn't want to get into Bakura's antics. The spirit was obviously just looking for a reason to cause a little trouble. Bakura may have once been inherently evil, but he tended to have a short attention span.

Or, perhaps, the humour was just for Ryou's benefit. Upon second thought, the latter concept seemed much more realistic.

Ryou made his way to the bathroom door, rapping on it softly. "I have some clothes for you, Luna," he called into the bathroom.

"Oh - thank you," she sounded surprised. "I'm in the tub...here, open the door a crack."

Ryou's face flamed hot, and he hesitated.

Bakura rolled his eyes. The spirit didn't really understand the whole embarrassment over the opposite sex. When he was alive, males and females saw each other naked all the time. It had never been much of a modesty issue, for his people, at least.

"I'm not going to stand naked in the doorway, Ryou," she assured him, "it's entirely inappropriate. I wouldn't dream of doing something so silly."

Ryou didn't seem particularly soothed by this notion, but he opened the door a crack anyways. Luna was covering herself with the shower curtain, all except for her head and the arm she'd extended, pointing her wand straight at him.

For a moment, Ryou thought she was going to attack him. His muscles froze up, his mouth popping open in surprise. He barely managed to do something about it - slam the door shut or something - before she waved the wand in a circular motion once and flicked it at him.

_"Accio clothes," _she declared, and the clothes flew from his arm and landed neatly folded onto her outstretched arm. She smiled at him in amusement, guessing his reaction.

Ryou shut the door without undue haste, putting a hand to his chest in an effort to slow his now-racing heartbeat.

Good gracious, wizards could be terrifying.

Marik grinned at the flustered young man, _"you humans are so _silly_," _he said, mocking Luna's words from a moment before.

"Says the one who'll never get laid," Malik commented, and Ryou could see the facade he was putting up, now that Luna was within earshot.

Marik shot Malik a very deliberate smirk, _"as far as you know."_

Malik blanched, realizing the implications of the spirit's statement. Ryou went a little white also, not really sure whether to chalk it up to dark humour or to worry that Marik hadn't been lying.

He also wasn't really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Luna stepped out. The shirt was ridiculously long on her, due to Ryou being so much taller, but the pants seemed to fit almost perfectly - much to Ryou's chagrin. The ruined clothes were slung over her arm. Her hair was wet, leaving a slight trail of water down her shirt, but she looked much better than she had.

The puckered skin around the cut on her face was no less shocking, though.

"How'd that happen?" Malik asked, obviously having noticed the cut also, "from what I've seen, spells-"

"Don't do that?" she queried in that bell-like tone that she often got when she was purposely trying to elude the question.

Bakura caught onto that attempt, and shut it down. "Answer the question."

She looked a little disappointed. "I fell. When they cast _crucio_ on me, I fell and hit my head. Or my face, rather. I think it was a rock, but I might be wrong. It was rather pointy to be a rock, but I guess the specifics don't really matter much. I'm sure the nurse will heal it up right away, if I see her, now."

Ryou wasn't sure if he knew a single other human being who could ramble quite like Luna Lovegood could.

"I thought you were avoiding the teachers."

Luna and Malik's eyes met, sharpness crackling between both of them for a moment. "Madam Pomfrey really isn't a teacher."

"Then why come here?"

"Two reasons," she admitted, "one, it wouldn't be very easy to explain how I looked before. She has an obligation to ask questions and investigate the reason if a student is attacked. Most of us try to protect her. She hasn't done anything wrong, and if she pursues something like this, she could get hurt. Students don't care much for authority other than from Death Eaters, nowadays."

_"And the second reason?" _Bakura pressed, not looking particularly sympathetic in the least.

"I needed to ask the four of you something."

_"Which is...?"_

Luna raised her large, misty eyes, "I need to speak with you tomorrow, in the Forest. I would talk to you now, but we never know how safe the school is, and I'd greatly appreciate Draco Malfoy being there."

The force of her words were almost enough to knock Ryou's knees out. There it was. There was the next event in Ryou's vision. He and his yami had been anticipating this request. It was one of the last things that they saw, before the blank space.

Bakura had vanished in thin air, reappearing beside Ryou with the concern of an overprotective big brother. Ryou's eyes flicked to meet his, and he gave Bakura the barest of nods, as to avoid breaking his poker face.

Luna didn't have to know that she'd just done her part in ascertaining that future, for them.

"We're planning to make some moves," she explained, "do some things that will get the Death Eaters at the school a little riled up. We need to do something until Harry gets here. This is all we can do."

She was asking them to help cause trouble. She was asking them to do something that would get them caught, almost guaranteed.

And yet, Ryou couldn't help but feel that she wasn't really asking much. She was just asking for help. Hadn't he decided that he would help people, instead of harm them?

_"You never made an obligation to do something like this," _Bakura answered through their link, his voice absolute, _"but then, both of us know where it's going to go, don't we?"_

"Please," she murmured, well-aware of the noticeable hesitance from them, "we need your help."

"We're putting ourselves at risk," Malik pointed out. "We told you that we only do what we do for us, and us only. We help you when it's convenient, but this is going out of our way."

The stare Luna fixed him with was almost impossible to classify - it was heated, like a fire of emotion, of that rejection. It was also chilling, almost icy enough to freeze the entire room over. Her words, however, were dripping with a venom that sounded completely opposite to her light tone of voice. "You didn't seem to have a problem with that when you stood up to Alecto Carrow."

Malik groaned, taking a few steps back to fall into the nearest chair. He really hadn't wanted that thrown in his face again. He put his face in his hands, avoiding the chilling stare that Bakura had focused onto him, like an "I-told-you-so".

Ryou didn't know what to say to Luna, as she stood there, waiting patiently for their judgment.

When none came, she took matters into her own hands. "Just...please meet me in the Forest tomorrow, before dinnertime but after classes end. It'll be the most likely time for you to slip away unnoticed." There was a tentative smile on her face, like she didn't expect them to help her, but she was hoping nonetheless.

"And why Draco?" Malik asked, "we don't even know the kid."

It was at that comment that Ryou realized, with a jolt, that Luna _knew _of their connection with Draco Malfoy. She was aware that they hung around him. How...?

She must've seen the expression on Ryou's face, because she elaborated immediately. "I confronted him a few days ago and asked him about his connection with you...well, I thought it was only you two, at the time. He wouldn't tell me, kept telling me how totally loony I was, but I could tell that I'd definitely hit a sensitive topic. Malfoy's usually well-spoken, and even though the insults were normal, he doesn't usually get flustered and start babbling over something so...well, as small as I made it seem, at least."

"It's no small thing," Malik said from between his fingers, his voice slightly muffled. He raised his head, his eyes steely, "you could get him killed, with what you know."

"And so could anything, really," she pointed out. "This _is _a war, and senseless killing has been You-Know-Who's favourite pastime, from what I've seen."

"You've seen correctly, then," Ryou said in a voice that was not his own, and with a start, he realized that Bakura was trying to take over. He glanced over to the dead air where the spirit had been standing not even a second before.

His confusion flared through the link.

_"I can't remain in spirit form for as long as I have. It's tediously draining."_

_- Oh...right. Sorry. -_

_"Just let me take control. I'm fine when I have control. I just can't sustain a damn spirit form."_

_- If it makes you feel better, neither can Yugi's yami. -_

_"It does not make me feel better,"_ Bakura grumbled, _"because I don't really give a damn about that Ra-forsaken Pharaoh."_

_- Sorry, sorry...-_

Deciding that he'd unintentionally antagonized Bakura enough, Ryou relinquished control, settling for watching through Bakura's eyes.

Luna had watched the entire thing with an expression of curiosity and almost-comprehension. Bakura crossed his arms snidely, and she smiled again, amused as to who it was occupying Ryou's body.

Through Bakura's eyes, Ryou noticed that Marik was gone, also. And judging by the look on Malik's face, Ryou had a pretty good idea where he went.

"I suppose that I can't do much to convince you," she said, after a moment. Her face was cast downwards, to the ground, like she was trying to avoid their eyes.

Malik didn't bite to her attempt. "No. You can't."

Ryou, however, was an entirely different story.

_- We should meet her, - _he protested, _- at the very least. What harm will it do? -_

_"Hikari," _Bakura said, _"it could very easily get us killed."_

_- I don't think so. -_

_"I do."_

Ryou huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at the wall of his soul room. He hated when Bakura did this - heard his opinion, listened to his argument, and then shot him down. It felt like he'd never intended to agree in the first place, and was just listening out of pity.

_"Stop being stupid. You know that's not true."_

He did. Which only made him feel even grumpier.

"But we might decide to come."

_- ...What? - _Ryou asked, blinking.

_"What?" _Bakura shouted in outrage, both within their connection and outside of it.

Malik's eyes slid to Bakura's very evenly, slightly shadowed by his long, sandy bangs, "you heard me, Bakura. We'll think about it." He didn't look like he was about to budge on the issue, either. "You and I can talk later."

"Damn _straight_ we will." Bakura hissed, his voice low and dangerous. He'd clamped his hands into fists, to avoid doing anything like, say, punch a wall. He was sure that Ryou wouldn't appreciate that.

"I won't bother the four of you any longer," Luna said, and turned on her heel quite swiftly, making her way to the door.

Bakura watched as she walked purposefully, opening the door slowly. She turned her head back towards them, her eyes half-lidded in apology.

"I'm sorry," she murmured with feeling, "about what this may cost you."

And then she vanished, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

Bakura wasted no time in turning on Malik. "'We might decide to come'?" he raged, "or even better, 'we'll think about it'? What the _hell_ is wrong with your _head_?" Bakura's voice was so loud that Ryou wouldn't be surprised if students on the other side of the school had heard him.

"Many things," he replied calmly, his voice a touch deeper than usual. "But, then, I suppose you already knew that."

When he lifted his head fully, the unmistakeable darkness of his eyes proved what Ryou had been thinking. It wasn't Malik at all. It was Marik.

_- Where's the Eye of Horus? - _Ryou asked, referring to the shining symbol that usually sat upon Yami Malik's forehead.

_"What, you thought he actually needed that?" _Bakura asked Ryou with an indignant snort, _"the bastard just wore it for show."_

Well, that explained quite a few things.

"Now," he hissed, his voice sultry and low and enough to make Ryou shiver from behind the safety of his soul room. "We're going to have a talk, and we're going to do it _nicely_."

* * *

Bakura cursed just about every god that he knew the name of, as he darted down the dimly lit Hogwarts corridors. Of course Marik had had to pull out the "should you really trust me to do anything right?" card. It worked well enough - with much tantrum throwing, Bakura had eventually decided to find Draco Malfoy, and give him Luna's message.

But Bakura had _not _agreed with Marik. He had _decided _on his _own_. There was no chance in hell that he would ever agree with _Marik._

He cursed again, aloud this time.

The sound of footsteps came to his ears, and he slipped behind a tapestry, so silent that he may as well have been a ghost. If there was one thing he could accredit Ryou for, it was that the kid had fast legs. Bakura liked to think that was his doing.

Ryou had opted not to join in the adventure. He'd still been wiped out from seeing his vision, and though Bakura was surprised with how well Ryou had taken it, he hadn't been surprised at how mentally and physically drained it'd left him. How drained it'd left both of them, really, but Ryou had it much, much worse.

The footsteps passed him - a teacher, no doubt. The gait was too long for a student, too patient to be a human teenager. Bakura had attuned himself to the many different sounds that each age group produced. Children had hasty strides, an effort to get a taste of everything around them, as was child nature. Teenagers had longer strides than children, but still held that urgency in their walk, though more attributed to mischief than eagerness. They also tended to move in groups, where they would talk in either loud cackles or hushed, excited whispers. When teens were alone, they usually ran from place to place. Adults had slower strides, and longer ones than most teenagers. They walked with a slow purpose, taking in everything as it came, in no rush to hurry to the best part.

Bakura grinned from his hiding place.

The sound of footsteps vanished down the hallway, but Bakura remained for a few moments, opting to err on the side of caution. Once he was sure that the person would not catch him, he shot out from behind the tapestry and down the hallway.

Slytherin dorms were...ah, yes. They were in the dungeon.

As he journeyed, Bakura found himself growing more and more disappointed. The security of the students was not very good - he could have snuck in and slit the throats of students in every dormitory. He wondered if he should mention that to a teacher.

Bakura snickered at the thought. The look on the victim teacher's face would certainly be priceless.

By the time he'd reached the Slytherin dorm, he was almost bored. He'd been looking forward to a challenge - but it'd been a pathetic, useless attempt. Perhaps he should have loosed some of his monsters around the castle, to provide a more interesting mission.

Then again, Ryou would have given him hell, for it.

Bakura snorted under his breath. Like he cared. What would Ryou do about it? Yell, perhaps, but nothing more. Certainly nothing threatening or even remotely entertaining.

He drew the Shadows from around him, as he approached the entrance. With practiced ease, he passed from outside to inside soundlessly. He was met with a richly furnished room, one with dark green couches and banners of a snake symbol. A massive fireplace loomed in the centre of the room. Two windows, so small that they filtered barely any light, hid up in the uppermost corners of the wall.

All in all, it looked like a well-dressed dungeon, to him.

Two doorways were on either side. One for females and one for males, he assumed. The problem was, though, guessing which one.

One of the doors was partly open, leading up to a staircase.

_That will be the boys' dormitory, _he thought, _there's no way that the females would leave the door to their sleeping quarters open. Unless there's some kind of trap in the stairwell, which I doubt, they'd be sure to lock the door._

Pleased with his deduction, Bakura took to the left. Upon the sounds of very male snoring, Bakura was even more chuff with himself at being right.

The white-blonde head poking up from the bed nearest to him, on the left, alerted him to Draco's location. Still, just for precaution, he pulled the sheet back a bit, to reveal the familiar face.

Well, it was time to get this over with.

Bakura grabbed Malfoy around the middle and hauled him halfway out of bed at the same time. Placing his hand over the boy's mouth, as to muffle any screaming, he willed the shadows to carry them to the hallway outside the dormitory. It would raise questions if he went anywhere too far away.

Somewhere between grabbing him and their Shadow transport, Malfoy woke up, and shocked, too. Bakura was satisfied to note that the landing of the Shadow transportation went considerably smoother than his last one, with Malik.

Bakura didn't remove his hand from Malfoy's mouth once they were outside in the hallway, though. Instead, he spun the boy around, so that he was facing him, and dug his hand into the boy's shoulder.

"Be damn sure that you're quiet when I remove my hand," Bakura ordered him, "or I'll be sure to remove your tongue."

Malfoy looked annoyed and a little grossed out by that, but nodded his head. Bakura removed his hand, and Malfoy was wiping his mouth on his robe in an arrogant show of disgust.

"Now what the _hell_ is this about?" Malfoy demanded in a hushed voice, his eyes narrowed angrily at having been woken so violently.

"I have a request for you," Bakura answered.

Malfoy looked intrigued, briefly, before his face flickered in question. "Did you sneak all the way here?" he asked, knowing how far away their room was.

"Yes. What do you think I did? Spread my wings and fly?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You didn't go to the girls' dormitory, did you?"

"Of course not, I got it right on the first try." Bakura replied snidely. He wasn't sure why Malfoy was so interested in knowing, though. "Why do you care?"

"Just that we'd have a crowd of screaming girls on our tail, if you had." Malfoy said. "They have a trap set up to catch anyone who tries to sneak up there. They usually chase the poor sap for hours until they catch him. It's not pretty."

"Interesting," Bakura said, though he didn't find it very interesting at all. Aside from the fact that there _had_ been a trap. That was surprising. Perhaps these wizards were just as medieval as their apparel suggested.

"Now," Bakura continued, cutting Malfoy off from any further speech, "I have a proposition."

"Mhm, you did say that already."

Bakura bared his teeth at him. Malfoy didn't look intimidated, but closed his mouth, nonetheless.

"Luna Lovegood," Bakura said, "she wants to meet us in the Forbidden Forest tomorrow, before dinner. She said that it's important."

"You don't sound happy about it," Malfoy observed in vague amusement, noting the way that Bakura had clenched his teeth and fisted his hands in an effort to deliver the message without putting in his obviously contrasting opinion.

"Of course not," Bakura replied irritably, "I think it's a stupid idea that's going to get us murdered."

"And by 'we' you mean me too, right?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes."

"So basically, you're inviting me to come risk my neck. Again." He pointed out, not sounding particularly pleased, either. "If I get caught, I'll get killed."

"It's the same story with us, you realize." Bakura snapped, shoving his hands into his pant pockets moodily.

"I'll do it, then," Malfoy sighed. Bakura raised his eyes to him in question, not really sure why he'd just agreed so readily to sign himself away.

Still, Bakura didn't ask. Even though he was against the entire thing, he wasn't about to botch it up by scaring Draco away.

"Fine," Bakura said with a nod. "We'll meet you there. Remember - between classes ending and student dinner."

"Okay."

Bakura turned, about to leave, when Malfoy stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. Bakura spun back around, cocking an eyebrow at the action.

"What is it?" the spirit asked.

"Be careful," Malfoy said, after a moment. "We're getting in deep, you realize. You don't know enough to stay alive."

"I know more than you do, about survival, but thanks for the sentiment," Bakura replied petulantly, his eyes flashing in the dim light.

Malfoy dropped his hand, nodding. "Just a friendly warning."

"Warnings aren't friendly," Bakura told him, turning on his heel and vanishing down the corridor, before Malfoy could say anything more.

End Chapter

(wipes brow) Jeez...that was so...freaking...long...

Eighteen pages in Microsoft Word. EIGHTEEN PAGES. Oh _man_...

Anyhow, I hope you guys/girls enjoyed the chapter. It was a toughie to write, in my opinion. I kept doing and redoing it, trying to get the scene with Luna just right. I don't think I really succeeded, so sorry for that.

Critique is appreciated. Flames will be used to fuel my next monstrosity. :D

I'll see you next time!


	22. When Faith Does Not Answer

Whoo! Guys, guys, look! We hit three hundred reviews! *throws confetti*

*sniffle* I couldn't have done it without you guys. (Seriously, it was all you people) XD

Well, in thanks, here is chapter twenty-two!

OH! I've posted something of a prequel to this story, involving how and why Ryou and Bakura are as cooperative and somewhat close as they are in this fic. Just to explain some things. :) Go and check it out. Chapter one is posted.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter.

Chapter Twenty-Two

When Faith Does Not Answer

_When Ryou opened his eyes, the sky was bleeding._

_Somehow, in the back of his mind, he wasn't surprised. He'd known this was going to happen. How, he wasn't sure._

_The air crackled with magic, one familiar to him and one foreign, light and shadow exploding in bursts as far as the eye could see. Creatures, creatures that came from _his _deck, screeched and careened across the sky, only to be shot down by beams of sickly green light._

_On shaking feet, Ryou tried to push himself up. His vision was blurry. Faces and forms were just moving, vacuous blobs. It was like he could see through them._

_But somehow, he felt like he should be there. On some subconscious level, he was there for a reason. He just didn't know, yet._

_He looked around, as his vision cleared._

_Bodies littered the ground - literally. It was like staring at a dump of corpses, lining the earth without pattern nor organization. They'd all just fallen where they'd been standing, dropping like sacks in their last, burning moments of life._

_Bile rose in his throat. It was sick. It was sick and wrong and _horrible_...he couldn't fathom the nature of it - of something so terrible._

_He finally stood, managing to steady himself enough to focus on fixing his vision. That didn't last long, however, as a massive blob of darkness slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. His breath whooshed out of his lungs in a painful instant, leaving him gasping as they hit the deck._

_"Got to be more careful, mate," the voice snapped at him, sounding like a young person, but with a tone that bespoke more age than it should have. "We need you to stay alive."_

_Why did they need him? What had he done?_

_Something whizzed over his head, the light growing in substance until Ryou could perceive the jagged, silvery outline of a spell. It'd taken the form of a bird, screeching through the air as it descended upon the Death Eaters. _

_Suddenly, the face beside him had become very clear. A boy, probably no older than he was, lay with one arm over his head. His wand was split in half, useless, but he still kept it in his hand like a faithful partner. His face was smudged with dirt, probably from leaping to the cover of ground more times than anyone would like to admit. His dark, brown hair was shaggy, and his face was littered with small, perfect lines of red._

_"Oi! Are you listening, mate?" the boy asked, digging his elbow into Ryou's side. The jab was enough to jolt Ryou back to the boy's presence. _

_"Yes," Ryou croaked out, his voice strained and rough, like he'd spent the past few hours yelling his throat raw._

_"Good," the boy confirmed, a bold and determined smile on his face. The young man studied Ryou's face for a moment, as they lay there on the ground, and his expression of determination turned to one of confusion._

_"Hey, weren't your eyes red before?" he asked._

_Ryou's mouth ran dry. Bakura. It was Bakura. This young man was talking about his yami._

_Where was Bakura?_

_His head whipped around, almost like he was searching for a mane of unruly white hair, so identical to his own, or that fierce face he knew so well. He saw none. His spirit searched, but he found no familiar presence in his mind._

_The panic and adrenaline was instant and startling, enough to have Ryou up on his feet and running into the fray._

_"Oi, what are you doing?" the boy yelled after him._

_Ryou glanced back at the young man he'd left behind him, at the same time as a beam of sickly, green magic slammed into the young man's back. Ryou could see the light in his eyes vanish instantly, and his body fell to the ground, just adding to the masses._

_Ryou gritted his teeth, surprised by his own inability to feel any distinct remorse or empathy for the loss. He was in survival mode - he had to find Bakura, and nothing else mattered - and his emotions took backseat._

_He ran past the corpse of a snake, lying beheaded on the ground in a pool of its own blood. Ryou turned a little green at the stench rising up from the remains._

_Still, he pressed on. He had to press on. If he didn't..._

_...he wasn't going to think about it. He didn't know what he'd do, how he'd react, what he'd think._

_It just wasn't something he wanted to start worrying about. Not yet. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it._

- Yami! Yami, where are you? - _he shouted through their link, trying to reach him, wherever he may be. _

_Because regardless of what he pretended, Ryou _needed_ Bakura. Simply needed him._

_Just as he skidded past an array of spells that were most likely aimed at himself, static exploded in his head. Ryou gripped at his skull, gnashing his teeth at the absolute agony of it._

_And through the static came the most relieving voice he could have hoped to hear._

"Ryou! Ryou, where the hell are you?"

_"Yami..." he breathed aloud. _

"Are you in the middle of that goddamned battlefield, hikari?" _Bakura shouted, sounding both panicked and out of breath, _"answer me, landlord!"

- Y-yes... - _Ryou answered slowly, after a moment of breathing and just letting the fact that his other half was still there and alive and real..._

_He inhaled sharply, trying to organize his scattered thoughts._

"I'm already on my way."

_Ryou knew that he didn't need to say a thing to those words. His yami would come. There wasn't a doubt about it._

_Perhaps, then, he could tell Ryou what was going on, because he sure wasn't figuring it out by himself._

_A tall woman with red hair ran past him, holding her skirts with one hand and extending her wand with the other. Her eyes were burning with hatred as she skidded to a halt, throwing her wand arm forwards, to her target._

_"That's my daughter, you bitch!" She screamed, shooting green light from the tip of her wand, just as Ryou turned to see Bellatrix Lestrange's head snap up in shock at the same moment that she was hit with that green curse. Her body rocketed backwards with the impact of the spell and landed on the earth with a sickening crunch. She did not move again._

_Dead. She was dead. _

_The familiarity of that woman's death was painful. Ryou had known that her death came a long ways into the future, when he'd had his vision. _

_If this had come true, as he'd predicted, then did that mean that...?_

_Horror gripped his heart like ice, chilling him to the bone. No. No, that was impossible. Her death wasn't even connected to that. It was wrong. He was thinking in circles, stupid things that would only serve to confuse him._

_"Ryou!"_

_Ryou turned back the other way, and his knees nearly gave out. _

_Because no matter what had been hinting at it, to see Bakura standing a few metres away, in the _flesh_, was the most shocking thing he could've imagined. More so than the death he'd just witnessed._

_The thief was breathing heavily, from an obviously long and panicked run. His deep, red eyes were even more surprising than usual. It was different from seeing them on his own face, whenever Bakura looked into a mirror._

_Because Bakura looked just so different from when he occupied Ryou's body. The resemblance was still there, but the strength in Bakura's gait, the harshness of his face...there was no part of Ryou to hold that back anymore. There he stood - entirely a separate being, one who was both familiar and so, so strange, that Ryou wasn't sure what to think or do._

_"Expelliarmus!" _

_A wand went flying, apparently having been aimed at him, and Draco came running their way, his arm extended. "Damn it, Ryou! You can't just be standing there like a git who's trying to get shot!" He shouted, his voice irritated, but full with an obvious battle-high._

_They met in a triangle, standing frozen for a single moment that seemed to last forever. Dead air hung in the centre, foreshadowing a cataclysmic event that Ryou knew too well._

_Several things happened at once._

_Many, many people screamed in unison, some of happiness and some of rage, just as a young man with dark hair and wild, green eyes emerged from nothingness. Then, after a brief conversation with Voldemort, who had also appeared out of, what Ryou had seen, nowhere, they both brandished their wands and shot spells. One red, one green._

_They connected, and for a brief moment, there was chilling silence._

_The silence shattered as darkness exploded from within the two spells. Deep laughter emanated from the darkness that rose to engulf the entire, bleeding sky. Ryou shivered at the sound of that laugh. A memory, one that did not belong to him, placed that laugh to a shadowy face, one that had plagued the world and nearly destroyed it, thousands of years ago..._

_Black lightning sparked in the air, and the black-haired boy was struck down. Wizards and witches screamed, scattering in a mess of fear that hindered them, more than helped them._

_Ryou's wide eyes met Bakura's own horrified gaze, just as something slammed into him with the force of a wrecking ball. He saw Bakura's mouth form words, and the spirit began running towards him in a blind panic. He wouldn't make it in time. Ryou knew that._

_He didn't even hit the ground, before his world started spinning in a conundrum of sights and sounds and feelings, whispers that he couldn't decipher past the wind that screamed in his ears. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the colours and pictures that shot past him. Images of the past, the present, and the future, mixing and blurring together into the indecipherable stream of time._

_His stomach dropped to his toes, like someone had thrown him into a blender and pressed the "on" button. _

_Something forced his eyes open, and the scene shifted, from a battlefield to a large, stone room that was unfamiliar to him._

_He was behind eyes that were not his own. He could feel nothing. His senses were completely cut off, in a manner that he knew well._

_His sluggish brain slowly comprehended it, putting the pieces together in disorganized, drunken movements. _

_Bakura. Bakura had taken control of his body._

_Hadn't Bakura had his own body, though? Or had he imagined that?_

_Voices spoke, and he managed to catch their vicious, venomous voices from what felt like a mile away. _

_"Well, then, you little brat," a lilting, female voice that he knew well came to his ears. "I'll show you not to take the Dark Lord's name in vain!" Her voice had gone from a hissing danger to a screech in seconds, and she extended her wand arm out towards the person beside him._

_Malik, the mind that was not his told him. She was pointing that wand at Malik._

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_Time stopped._

_He knew those words._

_Amidst the silence, Bellatrix Lestrange began to cackle, raising her arms above her head in victory._

_Time restarted._

_"MALIK!" Ryou yelled, panic exploding from within him like fireworks. Bakura turned just in time to see Malik's body fly a few feet and land on the ground. Limp. Unmoving._

_Dead. Gone. Malik. He was..._

_Shadow magic popped and crackled around his still form. Ryou barely noticed it, amongst the sparkles of green light that remained, making a mockery of his corpse._

_The panic vanished, replaced by a deep-seated hatred that coiled like a white snake within the very core of his being._

_Kill. Murder. She had to die._

_He wasn't sure whose mind those words came from, but he agreed. Entirely._

_"No," Malfoy whispered from beside them, his voice hoarse with shock and disbelief. _

_Ryou's mind spun. _

_Vengeance. Vengeance for Malik. Malik was dead. He was dead. He was DEAD. Gone. Was that possible? No, it couldn't be. Malik couldn't just die.  
_

_It didn't matter what the vision had said. It had to be wrong. Malik was alive, damn it! He wasn't dead! He couldn't be!_

_No! It was WRONG!_

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Malfoy screamed, his voice raw with seething, boiling hatred. The spell exploded from the tip of his wand, slamming with the immeasurable force of his rage into the Death Eater nearest to him. The man collapsed to the ground. Dead. Dead, like Malik._

_Dead, dead, dead..._

_Dead, dead, dead...._

_It just wasn't possible. _

_He had to wake up. He had to. He'd wake up to see Malik sleeping beside him, back in Hogwarts. Malik would be in danger, yes, just like Ryou was, but he'd be alive..._

_Alive, alive, alive. Not dead, dead, dead._

_He felt his body jerk, running towards something. There was a familiar pull in his stomach, and magic engulfed them. His magic. Shadow magic._

_And Ryou's eyes opened through Bakura's, to see his body and Malfoy leave their friend's soulless shell behind._

_It was real. Malik was dead._

_No..._

_"Ryou...!"_

_No..._

_"Ryou...!"_

_NO!_

Ryou woke up screaming.

"Ryou!"

Ryou could feel himself writhing, his blankets getting tangled in his flying limbs. His body jerked upwards, trying to sit up, but two arms forced him back down.

"Damn it, Ryou, get yourself together! Ryou!"

His eyes snapped open in his blind panic. Malik was holding him down, his face haggard from what had obviously been a very jarring wake-up call. His eyes, however, were lit up with confusion and concern as to Ryou's state.

But he was _alive..._

...Not dead. Thankfully, thankfully alive.

His body went limp in the bed, but Malik still kept a firm grip on his shoulders.

_"Landlord, what the hell?" _Bakura's groggy voice echoed through their link, and Ryou immediately felt the spirit's own confusion, matching Malik's.

Matching Ryou's own.

What had that been? What was with that _thing_?

He shivered, clammy hands clasping at damp clothing, trying to cling onto something to stop the shaking.

It'd felt so _real_...

He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and opened them again. He was greeted with Malik still standing over him, still holding him down, staring at him with an expression of helplessness.

Ryou must have scared Malik to-

No. Not to that.

"Ryou, are you okay?"

He could feel his own breathing, shallow and fast, borderline hyperventilation. Malik pulled him up into a sitting position. He kept his arms tightly on Ryou's shoulders for a moment, reassuring himself that Ryou was steady enough to hold himself, and let go of him.

"You're okay to sit up?"

Ryou nodded and ran a hand down his sweat-drenched face, feeling disoriented and panicked. Those dreams...they'd been so _real_...

_"What dreams?" _Bakura demanded, and Ryou felt his yami's presence pushing on his own. _"Show me," _the spirit demanded.

Ryou, barely aware of what was going on as he tried to put together his scattered thoughts, didn't have time to approve or disapprove, because Bakura dove straight into his recent memories in search of what'd scared him so badly.

"Ryou...?"

He met Malik's concerned stare, trying to force his eyes to focus properly. "I'm...fine," he whispered, but the sentiment was futile, because he sounded too out of breath to be "fine".

As expected, Malik looked unconvinced.

The spiritual projection of Bakura appeared, standing beside the bed. He looked more disturbed than Ryou had seen him in a long time.

Malik looked over at him, his expression saying that he was thinking along similar lines as Ryou. "What happened?" he ventured, turning his head from Ryou to Bakura and back again.

Ryou grimaced inadvertently, clasping his hands together tightly. The movement didn't go unnoticed by Malik, who stared at Bakura, waiting for an answer.

_"Ryou had a dream,"_ Bakura answered, his voice choked, _"but I'm not sure if it's a vision or not_." His eyes met Ryou's. _"It has...properties of his more recent vision, but some parts of it are indisputably imaginary."_

Malik appeared to want to ask more, but held his tongue.

Ryou, trying to find something to occupy himself, began dabbing at the sweat of his face and neck with the corner of his bed sheet. He didn't have the legs to get up and do anything. Trying would just bring unnecessary concern.

Bakura, having caught this, watched Ryou with a protective gaze. _"Are you going to be able to go out, today?"_

Ryou nodded, "yes, I should be just fi-" as if on cue, a wave of nausea hit him full force. He gasped aloud, his hands flying to his stomach. Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down, groaning as his throat burned raw.

He expected some kind of snarky crack at his obvious sickness, and the fact that he most certainly would _not_ be able to go out. No comment came, though. Not from either of his two companions.

Perhaps, then, it just indicated how serious things had become. The fact that they couldn't even comfortably joke anymore...Ryou wasn't sure if he was to be relieved that they were finally taking things seriously, or to be agonized that things had become so serious. So dangerous. Too dangerous.

"I'll..." he managed, his voice hoarse and quiet, "be fine in a few minutes. Just give me a few minutes."

He wasn't going to just sit around, anymore. No matter how small, he was going to do something, even if his body screamed protest.

_"Stop trying to be a martyr," _Bakura hissed, his own way of showing concern, _"you overworking yourself is going to do nothing but hold us back."_

Though the statement was really unnecessary, in Ryou's opinion, he also found it unfortunately true.

_"I'll take over, for the first while."_ Bakura decided after a moment of watching Ryou catch his breath.

Ryou glanced up, his bangs plastered to his forehead and obscuring his vision, "I'll be _fine_," he assured the spirit.

_"No, you won't. Not if you overwork yourself."_

He knew it was futile to argue. When Bakura saw fit to be protective, there wasn't really a thing anyone could do to sway his opinion on matters.

_- You won't budge? -_

_"No."_

Ryou sighed and relinquished control to Bakura, who'd dissipated his spirit form and had replaced himself within their connected minds. Bakura opened their eyes, stretching their spasmodic muscles.

"Damn, hikari, you _were_ worked up." He twisted his wrists. _"With good reason," _he added through the connection.

Ryou settled in his soul room, letting himself feel safe for the first moment since he'd gone to bed the night before. _- Yes. I'm sorry for startling both of you. -_

_"Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault, stupid landlord."_

Ryou wanted to smile at the sense of familiarity, at the effort that Bakura was making to take his mind away from that _dream_...but Ryou couldn't. He just couldn't. It was burned into the forefront of his mind, like a brand that would scar and remain.

A part of him wondered if his dream hadn't been a dream, but a premonition. The rest of him forced that thought back. Such a thing...he didn't even want to consider it happening.

He felt the spiritual hand of Bakura on his shoulder. _"Ryou."_

Ryou smiled slightly, feeling emptiness welling up in the depth of his stomach. _- I know. -_

_I know._

* * *

Malik let out a deep sigh, feeling the wind ruffling the collar of his shirt. He closed his eyes, trying to envision a warmer place. The breeze, warm with the humidity of recent rain, made the vision almost possible.

The smell of wet greenery, however, that permeated every spec of air around him, removed that possibility. He wrinkled his nose. Wet. It was hardly a scent of enjoyable nature. He'd thought that, when he'd first gotten to England, so long ago when he and Ryou had first arrived on their trip, he'd get used to it. He'd been wrong. The scent was still as unsettling and unnatural to his senses as it had been the first time.

Malik opened his eyes, frowning out at the scenery beyond the castle. The wide expanse of forest and valley that spanned out past the grounds was breathtaking, to say the least. Somehow, on this day, Malik could not bring himself to enjoy it in the least.

"Malik."

He turned, to the white-haired male standing behind him. "What is it?" he asked the Spirit of the Millennium Ring. Bakura had seemed nearly as troubled as Ryou had been, since he'd gone snooping into what Ryou's dream had been.

This worried Malik, possibly, more than their impending...situation.

"Some complications pertaining to Ryou's vision have arisen." Bakura said, his voice level and calm. Malik didn't know how the spirit always managed to accomplish such a level of professionalism, when delivering facts. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know how such detachment from emotional connection was achieved.

Well, he was pretty sure that he knew some of the reason, but Malik had no intention of finding out the entire truth.

"Really?" Malik asked, only really half-listening. His eyes softened as he stared out into the endless green and blue. It was too unfamiliar to him. He found the green so unfriendly, even though it carried an abundance of life that the desert did not. It just didn't seem right. "I miss Egypt," he murmured.

"You're not paying attention, are you?" Bakura snapped in irritation, looking none too pleased with Malik's sudden wave of nostalgia.

"I am so," Malik rebuked, though the argument was made with little vigour.

Bakura snorted, crossing his arms. He walked over to where Malik was draped over the ledge, propping his elbows up onto the side.

"What about this landscape reminds you of Egypt so much?" the spirit asked, raising an eyebrow at the odd comparison.

Malik shook his head at Bakura's misunderstanding. "It's not the similarity, it's the contrast."

"Ah."

They lapsed again into that familiar silence that they so often had. It often occurred that there were no words for them to give, especially when things were as they were. When one was so deep in a situation that they couldn't grasp any sort of control over, it was hard to find words to describe things.

The sun was high in the sky, radiating heat across the grounds. It'd taken them nearly until noon to finally get ready and out of their room. They'd spent a few hours patrolling, splitting up often to cover more ground, to be seen more often.

Malfoy hadn't appeared anywhere. Bakura wondered if he was faking sick, as to make it easier to slip out, come dinnertime. Security at the school's hospital wing was weak at best. Anyone who even had the slightest drive to escape could do so with little issue. Malik found the entire concept unimpressive. They'd grown awfully lenient, with their easy magic. It was an unfortunate thing to see.

Bakura saw them as lazy. Malik saw them as open to too many loopholes, too many ways to get out of the simple hardships that made life full.

He wondered if the wizards ever felt that emptiness, that sense of missing something that their "muggles" somehow had.

"The complications," Bakura suddenly said, having finally gotten his mind back on track to what he'd been talking about before. "You recall what the original vision was, correct?"

"Pertaining to which part?"

"The one that mostly concerns you."

Malik grimaced, feeling uncomfortable. He'd managed to successfully push that particular part of the vision out of his head, in favour of moving forward without hesitation. "Yes, I recall it."

Bakura looked a little sympathetic. "Ryou had another vision. To confirm it."

"I also distinctly recall you deliberately not showing Ryou that part." Malik said, his voice hardening a little. It was not something that he really wanted to be talking about. Not so close to...to that.

"Yes." Bakura stared out at the landscape. "That was the only thing I refused to show him, even after his explosion."

"He certainly showed you, though, didn't he?" Malik barely managed to suppress his amusement at the recollection of Ryou's rage.

Bakura rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, something dawned on Malik, something that was enough to make him whirl around and grab Bakura by the shirt collar.

"Why are we talking about this?" Malik hissed, his eyes narrowed into slits of suspicion. "Ryou can _hear_ us."

"He's asleep, you fool." Bakura replied irritably, and in one fluid motion, pried himself out of Malik's grip. "He's sleeping off that second vision...dream...thing. I don't even know what the hell it was, but it _was_..."

"It _was_ something?" Malik supplied.

Bakura shot him an exasperated look. "Sure. Whatever. It was something. Still, it drained him."

"From the way he woke up from it, I'm not really surprised." Malik murmured, propping his chin in his palm, staring back out to the landscape.

Malik wouldn't have been too shocked if Ryou's screaming had woken half of the castle. It'd sure done a good job of scaring _him_ awake, at least. Marik had been pretty shocked too, which had been one good thing out of a bad situation. Malik could safely say that Marik's expression, when waking up, had been priceless. He'd barely managed to catch it, from within their soul room.

If there was one thing he hated, on that note, it was the fact that they had to share a soul room, since Marik was essentially a part of himself. At least Bakura and Ryou got some _privacy_ within their separate minds. Malik wasn't really granted such a comfort.

_(I heard that.)_

_Which only stands to emphasize my point._

Marik, obviously not interested enough in the conversation, declined to comment further.

"You're pretending to take this awfully well."

Malik turned in surprise. Bakura was leaning with his back against the ledge, now, his elbows over the side, his arms hanging down. He watched Malik with those piercing red eyes, calculating everything behind Malik's face.

He sighed and pulled out his Millennium Rod, guiding his fingers along the curves and lines of the ancient item. "And what else would you have me do?"

Bakura said nothing. He had nothing to reply with. Telling Malik to face the situation that lay before him was as good as telling him to go crazy. It wouldn't be possible.

"For what it's worth," the spirit said, "I'm sorry."

Malik looked surprised. "That actually means quite a bit, coming from you." He grinned widely, decidedly smug.

"Oh, shut up."

Malik chuckled. "But thanks."

"Coming from you, that means..." Bakura stopped in the middle of his mockery to stretch his arms. "Ah, I don't care. Let's go. I think their dinnertime has just begun."

"Which makes us late." Malik answered, throwing Bakura a glare. He spun on his heel and began walking towards the steps that led down to ground level.

Bakura caught up with him easily, falling into step at his side. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the courtyard. It was an ominous sort of music.

They went down the steps in silence, though they were both careful to not be seen. If one or two kids saw them about, it didn't mean much. If too many people saw them heading towards the forest, they'd have to make up some kind of stupid alibi. Further, if anyone connected Luna and Draco's absence, or saw them heading to the same place, then explanations would be futile.

Though Malik had done much of it in the past, he found that he did not enjoy so much sneaking around.

The long slope leading to the groundskeeper's hut was completely deserted. Perhaps it was the fact that it had rained that morning. Malik was thankful, though, that he could feel a little more at ease, when the area around him was devoid of any unwanted company.

"I'm switching out with Ryou," Bakura warned Malik, stopping halfway down the stone path.

"When did he wake up?"

"Just now. I'll follow in spectral form."

Malik shrugged. He'd never really understood Bakura and his spectral form. It was entirely useless. They could communicate through his mind reading and Ryou and Bakura's connection. The form was entirely useless. He could see, hear, and smell, but Bakura could not touch a thing in that form. Perhaps that was why he liked to control Ryou's body so much.

He didn't know the answer to that question, and he was almost positive that Bakura would never answer it.

Malik could see a faint shimmering beneath Bakura's shirt as he closed his eyes. When they reopened, they were a deep shade of brown. Chocolate instead of blood. Malik had to note his own unusual analogy, and decided that he'd never use it again.

The air misted on Ryou's side, and Bakura appeared.

Ryou looked between the two. "What did I miss while I was sleeping?" he asked.

"Nothing much," Malik replied nonchalantly, shrugging again, "just patrolling around the school."

"Oh. Okay." Ryou looked a little embarrassed, then, "I'm sorry about that, though."

"About what?"

"The whole nightmare thing."

Malik waved a hand at him, "eh, don't worry about it."

_"It was just a dream," _Bakura emphasized, _"don't go apologizing for it, Ryou."_

Ryou blinked at the harshness of Bakura's tone, but appeared to shake it off. He turned to Malik and gave him a slight smile, before turning his gaze out towards the forest. "Luna's waiting for us?"

"Most likely. We're pretty late."

_"Tch. It's not like we have an obligation to meet her."_

Malik levelled a stare at the spirit. "Honestly. Give it up. You've been bitching about it since we agreed to it."

_"Yes, no thanks to god damned Marik."_

Ryou sighed, too tired to chastise the two about unnecessary arguing and cursing. He just resumed their trip down the steps, his arms swinging at his sides with a sort of anxiousness about him.

When they passed the groundskeeper's hut, Malik could see the faint flickering of a candle, and the shadow of a large shape sitting, back to them.

"Man, that guy's always so depressed," Malik muttered.

Ryou followed his gaze to the window of the small, stone home, "can you really blame him?" he asked emphatically, swinging his gaze to both Bakura and Malik.

Bakura said nothing, only continued walking forwards.

"No. I can't."

They paused, feeling the sombreness take over the air space around them. Ryou found Malik's eyes and nodded to him. "We have to keep going," the white-haired male said.

Malik nodded back, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. "Yeah," he answered, bowing his head as they walked past the hut. He haphazardly kicked a small stone, watching as it landed in the centre of the pumpkin patch, making a crow screech and flap away.

Bakura was waiting for them at the very edge of the forest. He murmured something to Ryou, who was ahead of him, that Malik did not catch. Malik didn't see Ryou have any physical reaction to Bakura's words. He just turned and waited.

Malik couldn't help but be a little awed at how alike, and yet so different, those two appeared. The concept of their oppositeness became even more obvious when they stood side-by-side. Bakura, the darkness. Ryou, the light. Two sides of the same coin, connected through their sameness, but always separated, always differentiated by their natures. Their natures that were so, so opposite.

The differences became the most obvious in their eyes. Ryou's were full, a person who was just in the beginning throes of life. They were pleasant to look at, a person who appeared approachable and friendly. Understanding and kind.

Bakura's were harsher, with a sharpness to them that only came with the cynicism of age. You could never stare into Bakura's eyes for too long. Even Malik had trouble with it. They were just so overwhelming, with the shadows of scars and death etched into the depths of his blood red irises.

_(And one would say similar things about us.) _Marik commented, his voice echoing inside Malik's mind.

He shook his head. _No. No, they're very different from us. It's definitely not the same thing._

_(Hm. Perhaps.)_

Malik stopped with them, his eyes snapping to the deep, green forest that seemed to stretch on forever.

_"Malik," _Bakura said. Malik's head swivelled to the side, to face the spirit. _"Remember that the future isn't always set in stone."_

Ryou looked curious, not really understanding Bakura's need to say such words to Malik. Malik, however, smiled slightly, a crooked expression filled with a sort of dryness about it.

"Yeah," he answered quietly, his hand gripping his shirt, right above his heart, of its own accord. "I know that, Bakura."

Bakura nodded resolutely before vanishing into thin air. He probably didn't feel too inclined to walk about the forest in a form so prone, so useless. Malik remembered how uneasy the Forbidden Forest made Bakura, something that one had to take quite seriously. If it bothered Bakura, then the chances were that it was highly dangerous and not to be taken lightly.

Ryou tugged on Malik's shirt sleeve, startling him out of his daze. "Let's go. We shouldn't keep her waiting even longer."

"Do we even know where she'll be?" Malik asked.

They both stopped in their tracks, staring at each other with expressions of mixed confusion and disbelief.

"Shit," Malik hissed, grinding his teeth.

"No need to curse," a soft voice mused, and a familiar wisp of blond hair crossed their vision for a split second. "Follow me." Her footsteps were disguised by the sound of crunching leaves and rustling branches as she disappeared ahead of them.

Ryou followed instantly, but Malik shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "This is starting to look more and more like a horror movie, where the stupid main characters follow the monster into the forest, and we're the stupid main characters," he grumbled.

The white haired boy grinned back at him, "Malik, if anything, it'd be the other way around."

It should have been funny, but Malik didn't smile. Ryou spared him a curious glance, as if asking what was wrong. Malik waved him off, not really inclined, nor able, to explain the reason to Ryou.

The foliage around them grew thicker as they walked, closing in like large, green hands. Malik could suddenly understand Bakura's unease during their last trip. The forest was almost like an impending attack, and you felt this need to be constantly on guard. It overwhelmed your senses. Sight, smell, touch. Even hearing, with the occasional whispering of birds and the faraway movement of hooves.

Malik sure hoped those were just wild horses, or something. He didn't even want to think about what kind of horse-like mythical creatures he may or may not run into at this place.

"We're almost there."

Luna's voice floated out from the never ending greenness, like a disembodied ghost. Malik could hear the typical airiness in her voice, but he could also still hear that sense of need, of extraordinary urgency and fear.

He didn't find that the latter tone sounded very natural, when attributed to someone like her. He would have liked to have known her when she wasn't terrorized by war.

Actually, had it not been for war, she would have been the kind of person who he'd not have spared a second glance to. Neville also. Draco, even. It was amazing who you attached yourself to, when thrown into such a situation as theirs.

They continued on, the three of them. Malik was beginning to lose sight of Ryou, who was obviously going to great lengths to keep Luna with his own sight, trying not to get both of them lost.

Eventually, the white head he'd been following stopped. As he neared his friend, he realized that they were standing in the very place where they'd saved Luna, not that long ago. Where they'd first met her, and first become involved in the whole crazy student rebellion.

Though, they hadn't really done much. Malik regretted the fact, a little. He wished that they could have done more.

He could almost feel the binding strings around them constrict, asphyxiating him for thinking such a thought.

_(You're far too sentimental for your own good. It'll kill you, you know.)_

Malik grimaced, but didn't respond. He didn't want to. He didn't _need_ to. Marik already had all the answer that he needed.

Still, he couldn't help but notice that Marik hardly sounded as amused mocking Malik's survival as he usually did.

Hm. Odd.

Luna, who'd been standing right by a tree, her hand gently running along the bark, inclined her head towards them. "I'm glad you came." She said, her voice soft.

"I'd like to say that the feeling's mutual," Malik answered, and saw Ryou wince slightly, probably from Bakura's commentary, "but you know better."

"I'm sorry. I really am."

"Then why do you want us to help so badly?" Ryou asked her, his voice quiet and emotional.

"Because," she replied coolly, her voice steeling, obviously her way of trying to force her own tangle of emotions out of the conversation, "this is a war, and we have to do _something_. We _need_ your help. You're not _like_ us, you use other magic and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Malik cut her off. "Back up, restart. Let's just address that right there - how do you _know _that we use any kind of foreign magic?"

"Your spirit possessions are considerably different from anything recorded or known amongst wizards. It's only right to assume that you also possess a different sort of magic. I haven't seen you use any spells. I used my head, naturally."

"Naturally," Ryou echoed weakly, his face crumpled into an expression of sheer agony. Malik knew just how Ryou hated watching things run the course of his vision, not managing to change a thing, no matter what he did.

Luna glanced around. "Before we delve further, I assume that the both of you informed Draco Malfoy of our meeting? I could have sworn he was going to come."

"Ah...I told him." Ryou answered, "I told him last night. He should be here soon."

Concern flickered across Luna's face, so fast that if Malik hadn't have been looking for it, he wouldn't have had a hope of catching it. Her eyes shadowed, with what could only be her educated guess as to where Draco was.

This was not good news.

"What's wrong, Luna?" Malik asked, his voice more demanding than questioning. Her eyes snapped to his. "What are you worried about?"

"I don't know what you mean. Perhaps we should visit the Thestrals, while we wait for Malfoy?"

The suggestion was too abrupt. She was trying to change the subject, and was being so casual about it that her intentions became glaringly obvious, especially to someone like Malik. His eyes narrowed at her not-answer.

"Luna." He said, putting power behind his voice. "Answer the question."

"But will you answer mine?"

"You're doing a pitiable job of beating around the bush," Malik informed her very calmly, and he and Ryou shared a glance.

Ryou knew. Ryou had exactly the feeling that he had, that Luna had, but was hiding. She, for some reason, felt that they weren't to know. That they weren't to worry, as she was.

"You think something's happened to him," Ryou prodded. The expression on his face caught Luna off-guard. If there was anything one could give to Ryou, it was that he knew exactly how he looked and just how to use it. Ryou knew the advantages of a baby face. He knew what he could do to people, if he pulled the right strings.

Luna was no exception. "Ryou-" she tried to say something to make them believe her stupid little charade, but they both saw her visibly deflate at the effort. "Yes," she said finally, her voice even and stronger than Malik had ever heard it. She didn't sound like a silly little airhead who believed in fantasy creatures, anymore. She was a refugee of war, and a hardened one at that.

"I do think that something's happened to him. I'm almost sure of it."

"Why?" Malik pressed. He tightened his hands into fists.

Ryou knew just what was coming, and squeezed his eyes shut. This was the moment where the vision cut off, when the thing that led them to _that place_, where the event that led to an untimed attack that would result in-

Malik's breath hitched painfully in his throat. This. Was. It.

"I didn't see him at all today. Usually he's lurking around somewhere, much like many of the creatures that my father and I study. Though he's hardly as elusive as they are. Still, I find the similarities striking. Perhaps he speaks with them, once in a while." She paused. "If I see him again, I should ask him about their meetings."

_If _she saw him again.

"Luna, you're rambling." Malik told her.

"I am aware," she answered slowly, and her hand enclosed around the portion of the tree she'd been touching. It clawed, contorted, like she was trying to snap the massive plant in half.

Malik made to ask her something further, some more evidence to back the reasoning for her deduction. He didn't have a chance, though. Ryou had already taken off, running back the way they'd come.

Malik and Luna's eyes met in a moment, and they shared something in that moment that was almost like her goodbye. He wasn't sure what to make of that, why she was staring at him like that.

"I won't see either of you, again," she murmured.

"I know." Malik replied, equally as softly.

"Please, tell Ryou that I say goodbye."

"I will. Thank you...for what you've done. For helping us where you could. I'm sorry we couldn't return the favour."

Luna's expression was amused. "You already have. I'm sorry for asking too much." She touched her lips, a slow, wan smile spreading across her face. It made her look adult, more adult than she'd ever looked before. "Go. Good luck."

Malik nodded. "Same to you."

He didn't get a chance to hear whatever she'd said in response. Malik turned then, and dashed out of the little clearing. He chased back towards the school. He could barely hear the sound of Ryou panicking his way through the forest. He pumped his legs harder. He had to catch up.

Ryou was fast. Everyone knew that. He'd done well in gym, when he'd not been trying to cover up his stamina and strength for fear of judgment.

But Malik was faster.

"Ryou!" Malik shouted, finally making some headway towards his friend. Ryou glanced back, and Malik could see the frenzy in his friend's brown eyes. He could see the red seeping in, as Bakura grew angrier and angrier...strengthening his foothold within their bond.

Strong emotions made for a strong connection, and the two of them had had a strong connection for some time.

Malik caught up, pacing himself alongside Ryou. They were halfway up the hill to the school. Running uphill was grating on his body, and he could already feel his muscles begin to scream and cramp in protest. He ignored it.

They cleared the top of the hill in record time, darting into the courtyard at a speed that probably would have left any passing students utterly dazed.

Malik's thoughts, no longer focused on catching up to Ryou, moved elsewhere.

Draco. Draco was in trouble. The boy that they'd dragged into all of this, albeit by his own choice, was in trouble and it was because of them. The men that they were dealing with were no less merciful than they were powerful. Malfoy could easily be killed, for his treason against them.

Laying low, huh? They'd done a damn good job of botching _that_ attempt. Guilt hit him like a tidal wave. It was _his fault_. No matter what Ryou said, Malik had set them onto the path that led to the vision. That fuelled that future.

It was funny, really. Malik couldn't help but see how fitting the ending was, considering that this was his fault. Karma indeed.

"Alecto," Malik panted. "We have to find Alecto Carrow."

Ryou's alarmed expression said that he definitely did not want to hear that.

"Dinner is almost over." Ryou said over his shoulder, and his voice was so soft that Malik could barely catch what his friend had said. "We'll likely catch her there."

"The Great Hall it is, then."

They ignored the students as they ran down corridors and flights of stairs. Malik was finding that the entire place was beginning to blend together into a never ending medley of stone walls and tapestries.

He sure hoped that Ryou knew where he was going.

Indeed Ryou did know where they were going, and they broke into the massive crowd that poured out of the great hall only a few minutes after entering the castle. They pushed and shoved their way into the centre of the crowd, gaining many a confused and fearful stare from the mass of students.

Across the hallway, Alecto Carrow stood, watching them with a vicious smile on her face. She looked like the cat who'd eaten the mouse.

Malik's stomach dropped to his toes, and he caught Ryou pale out of the corner of his eye. Not missing a beat, the two of them approached her slowly.

"What did you do?" Malik demanded, forgoing the facade and just facing her straight.

Alecto's eyes sparkled with unholy mirth, "it's rude to speak to a teacher that way."

"Pity we aren't students." Malik hissed, ignoring any glances from students at the way they were facing off against her so...publically.

"Birds who leave the nest too early often find themselves being affected by bad, bad influences. I found it necessary to return a special little bird of ours to the nest. I pray that they can cleanse him of the bad things he's been thinking. Otherwise, the result could be...unfortunate." Her lips curled up further, exposing gleaming yellow teeth.

Any trace of an attractive woman vanished in that predatory feline that stood before them, revelling in her victory. In their loss.

And what a loss it'd been.

Malik had to use all the self control he had to keep his knees from buckling. Ryou, however, was not so fortunate. Malik managed to grab him before he hit the floor.

"I would suggest that the two of you stay behaved, for a time. We wouldn't want to kill you, not when you've just begun to regain that magic that will be so, so very useful to us, in the future." Alecto's smile turned into a threatening, tight-lipped smirk. Her eyes darkened with promise. This wasn't just a game, anymore. Alecto was entirely serious.

"I hope you burn," Malik spat.

Malik's words didn't even faze her. She just stepped forwards, walking straight past them with all the nonchalance of a person who hadn't spoken a word to them.

"Be careful, little shadows," she whispered as she passed. Malik attempted to turn, to snap something back at her, but she'd vanished into the sea of students.

That careful little glass ledge they'd been treading upon collapsed in that moment, along with their entire world.

_Luck does not last forever._

End Chapter

Whew, I'm glad to have finished that off. I was having serious trouble writing this chapter, mostly because it was so totally tense, but with such little action. I think the most exciting thing was when Ryou upped and booked it out of the forest.

But don't fret, action will be coming soon. Very, very, very soon.

Critique is appreciated, flames will be used for a bonfire. Drop a review, if you wish! I'd love to hear what you thought of the latest instalment to the story!

Out-Of-Control-Authoress


	23. The Choice

_Happy late birthday, Neitherworld! _(It was her birthday when I last updated!)

Thanks guys. Really. All of you. I was looking back on early chapters of this fic and going..."dear God, this really sucks some serious #$# doesn't it? I mean, my grammar was unforgivable, and my dialogue and description really needed work and filling out..."

But anyways, I was feeling super nostalgic, and I realized just how nuts it is that I've been working on this story since October 2008. 2008! I was still a baby when I started writing this...ahem. Anywhoo, I was just kind of wondering about working to revamp this fic (earlier chapters, AT LEAST), but I decided against it. Here's why:

(1) I don't nearly have the time that I used to, when I started. I mean, I went from weekly updates to once every few weeks to MONTHS without updates sometimes (which I beat myself for, trust me).

(2) Due to number one, it would take time away from me being able to continue, and in turn post chapters for the upcoming sequel and the kinda-sorta-not-really prequel to the entire storyline!

So, yeah, me explaining things that none of you probably even thought about. (laughs) But thanks for listening. (Er...reading, really.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Choice

_"Be careful, little shadows," she whispered as she passed. Malik attempted to turn, to snap something back at her, but she'd vanished into the sea of students._

_That careful little glass ledge they'd been treading upon collapsed in that moment, along with their entire world._

_Luck does not last forever._

The sea of students continued moving around them, unaware of what had just transpired right before their eyes. Only a select few had even taken notice of the fact that _something _had happened between Alecto Carrow and the two foreign prefects.

None of those few, however, had realized that they'd witnessed the turning point in three very desperate lives.

Ryou had risen to a stand already, shrugging away from Malik's supportive hold. He turned to where Alecto had been standing, preventing Malik from seeing the expression on his face.

"Let's go," Malik said woodenly, knowing that Bakura was too far away to hear him. "We should go somewhere private."

"That stupid kid." Ryou (who was obviously not Ryou, but Bakura) uttered a low oath after he spoke, turning away from the place where Alecto Carrow had been to the rest of the crowd, which was thinning out. Students who were still dawdling noticed the expression on Bakura's face, and most of them hightailed it out of there. They didn't want to spend their free time around someone who looked about to commit first degree murder.

Wizard or not.

Malik took two soundless steps to his friend and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, nodding his head towards the stairs. "Let's go," he repeated, his tone firmer.

Bakura's eyes were shards of red glass, sharp and cold. Malik couldn't hold his gaze. The spirit wrenched out of Malik's grasp and stormed off in a random direction. Malik was almost completely positive that he didn't have the foggiest clue where he was going.

Students move out of his way as he left, staring and murmuring to each other at the murderous expression on his face. None of them wanted to get into his way.

Malik, knowing that Bakura was just looking for trouble, decided to follow him. His legs were shaky and weak, preventing him from accomplishing much. He was barely managing to chase Bakura in a straight line, and he could feel disorientation creeping up through his head. The edges of his vision were fuzzy.

Bakura vanished around a corner. There was no way that Malik would be able to catch up with him.

"Bakura, wait-" Malik tried to call, but he knew that the effort was futile. Bakura would not answer him. He was probably too far away anyways, by then, to hear.

Malik stopped and leaned back against a wall, his hand clawed up in his shirt, right over his heart. He could feel his rapid heartbeat. It was so fast that it was almost painful. He grimaced, closing his eyes, trying to will the discomfort away.

So, this was it. This was the end of everything that they'd fought for, since being first entangled in the entire mess.

He dropped to the ground, sliding down the wall in utter defeat. Burying his face in his hands, he tried to even out his ragged, shallow breathing. Footsteps passed him, and though he knew that he looked like absolute hell, no one would stop to ask about it. They were too apprehensive, too out of their element with someone like him.

After all, word had likely spread about them being foreign sorcerers. From what Bakura had told him, when the Spirit of the Ring and Marik had decided to go loose monsters upon the castle, some students had been talking to each other about the odd prefects' magic. After all, two strangers show up about the same time that some strange magic occurs? It didn't take anyone intelligent to be able to connect the dots.

The corridor was silent. Apparently, the students had all gotten to their designated activities. That was fine. Malik didn't really care much for company.

_"Remember that the future isn't always set in stone."_

Malik blew out a sigh of irritation. "I know that already, you bastard." He mumbled to no one, removing his hands from his face so that he could massage his aching temples.

He didn't know what to do anymore. He didn't have a _damn_ clue what he was supposed to be _doing_ about _anything_. He'd been raised to deal with Shadow Magic, to deal with Pharaohs and Thieves and Shadow Games and Millennium Items. He hadn't ever been taught about modern magic, about the evolution of a branch of sorcery that his people had likely never come into contact with. Not long enough to really take notice, anyways.

He couldn't shake the knots in his stomach, or the sheen of sweat he could feel on his face and neck. He couldn't get rid of that horrible feeling, that continuously reminded him of what Bakura had said was to come.

Well, what Malik had _guessed_ was to come, and what Bakura had confirmed. It hadn't taken words. The expression on the thief's face, back in that office, had been answer enough.

A small part of his mind alerted him to the clicking sound of heels, coming down the hallway towards him. He didn't care though. He knew that they'd pass him by.

They didn't, however. The footfalls came to a stop right in front of him. Malik could feel the presence of a person right there, staring down at him.

"Fuck off," he muttered, but still loud enough that the person would hear him. Much to his irritation, the person didn't move.

"I'll ignore the foul mouth and give you the benefit of the doubt. However, I am surprised, Mister Ishtar, that you have lost that spark of fire I saw during our last meeting."

Malik's eyes shot open, his head snapping up. Above him, dressed in her typical long, gothic-style dress, stood Professor McGonagall. Her arms were crossed, her lips pursed. Her eyes were still sharp as ever, her face moulded into that perfect "teacher expression" of disappointment that would send any student babbling away with excuses to avoid her wrath.

Still, there was a softness and empathy about her that made Malik openly gape at her being there. He'd never seen such a thing from Professor McGonagall before. Not once since he'd first arrived.

"Too distraught to speak, I see." She clicked her tongue, "well, then. Get up. I haven't all day." She took a few steps away from him. When she realized that he had not yet moved, she turned back around to face him. "Up, Mister Ishtar. Follow me."

Malik scrambled to his feet, not really sure what else to do but follow the odd old woman as she continued walking.

"It's usually polite to walk beside someone, Mister Ishtar." She called out, apparently aware of the distance between them.

Malik had never been one for authority figures. In fact, he'd done his best to avoid them at all possible costs. Teachers and policemen alike...they just didn't mix with him. Oil and water, really. Still, this teacher was different. He found himself picking up his pace, falling in step beside her. He was surprised at his own actions, really.

"You listened," she commented, and her frowning expression turned to one of guarded amusement.

"I'm not really myself, right now. I don't usually snap to attention like that." Malik shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Ah."

Malik glanced at her, the old woman who was barely as tall as he was. "So...why are you here?"

McGonagall didn't stop walking to answer. "I am here because I am here, Mister Ishtar. Questioning things that happen in your favour is hardly a good habit to keep." She made that clicking sound with her tongue again.

"No," he sputtered, embarrassed that she was twisting his words around, "it's just that you pretty much told us off of the bat that we weren't welcome. What changed?"

"Nothing _changed_, Mister Ishtar. For it to have changed, you would have had to become a Death Eater. That's precisely the reason why I am here." A sharp, pointed glance. "I am here because you are _not_ one of them."

He blinked at her, feeling some of his agony falling away for confusion. "That made absolutely no sense."

"It doesn't have to, Mister Ishtar. I haven't the patience that I used to have."

Malik was almost certain that, had he asked any of her past students, they would have said that patience and McGonagall had never gone together.

Malik glanced up at the older woman's face. She was staring straight ahead, completely focused on her mission. He was having trouble accepting that McGonagall was actually right there, helping him for some twisted reason.

Well, she may not have been there to help him. She may be leading him, right that moment, into some kind of trap or confinement. She probably knew that he and Bakura were quite dangerous, especially _now_.

Though, as she'd given him, he was going to grant her the benefit of the doubt. And pray that he wasn't wrong.

"I'd like to know something, Mister Ishtar, and please, answer honestly. I feel very strongly that lying is not a good plan, when one is at war." A shadow of betrayal passed over her face. She had only adopted this policy recently, and because of someone else's mistake, it seemed.

She paused, her eyes on him, searching his face for some kind of affirmation. Malik just stared back, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

After all, he would have to know what she was asking before he could know if he would answer it honestly. There were many things that she would not be allowed to know. They'd already made the mistake of telling Draco Malfoy far, far too much. Look where that had gotten him.

His hands tightened into fists.

"What happened with Alecto Carrow, Mister Ishtar?" she asked, her eyes flicking from his hands up to his face, scrunched up into an angry grimace.

"Was that the intended question?"

"Yes." McGonagall answered, lips pursed. She did not look impressed with him dodging the point.

Malik's gaze grew faraway, and his walking slowed. "She...took Draco Malfoy back to the Malfoy Manor. Or, at least, I'm guessing. Back to his father, and to the snake bast - ah, You-Know-Who."

One of her eyebrows rose. "Draco Malfoy was very much a part of his father's...occupation. Why does this have you and Mister Bakura so riled up?"

"Because Draco was on our side," Malik said calmly, not bothering to gauge her reaction. "When we first arrived at that mansion, we met him. He was kind of on the edge between ditching the entire Death Eater thing and staying with them so that he could survive. I guess us being there, and our determination to put Voldemort six feet under sort of nudged him off the side."

The serious _lack _of reaction had Malik's eyes on her instantly. He searched her face for some kind of distinctive emotion. Shock, at the least. He found nothing.

McGonagall should have looked surprised. By all means, what Malik had just said should have rocked her right off of those black pointed-toe boots she was wearing. But it didn't. She merely nodded, looking both thoughtful and a little amused. Like she'd guessed it already. He wasn't giving her news, or anything.

"I see."

Malik blinked. Who _was_ this woman?

"Alecto Carrow found this out, I assume?"

Guilt crept up into his stomach, making him feel a tad queasy. "No. Yes. Sort of..." his brow wrinkled for a moment. "I don't know how."

"She never saw you together?" she pressed, "do you know for sure, Mister Ishtar?"

Malik opened his mouth to respond. No, she couldn't have seen them together. They were very careful to avoid any sort of attention. Every time they'd spoken with Draco, they'd been very subtle. He'd been subtle too. He'd been terrified of the chances of his father finding out.

Every time they'd met - and Malik used the term "every" very loosely, because they didn't meet up very often - they had made sure that it was long into the night when few, if any, would see them.

But there was still always that chance. And what if she'd happened to catch them with him one time, and had filed it away as coincidence, or them harassing him, or just conversations amongst followers?

No. After Malik's whole shake-up in her class, she could have put the pieces together. She was far smarter than he'd anticipated. She'd figured it out. It only took a few tiny things, just like Bakura had said.

"She guessed," McGonagall said after a moment of studying what had to be an expression of absolute horror on his face.

"Yes," Malik choked, struggling to find any other sort of words.

It'd been _all his fault_.

He half-expected a witty remark from within his mind. None came. Why was Marik never around when the mood _needed_ to be lifted or the topic changed?

_Che,_ Malik thought, _he's probably listening and enjoying himself._

Still, nothing came. Malik could, however, feel a slight hum from his soul room. Marik was asleep. The soul room only ever went into such a deep state when one's ka was recharging.

In other words, Marik seemed to be very, very tired.

"-to do?"

McGonagall stopped walking. "Mister Ishtar." She said, in that stern voice that she seemed to enjoy using.

Malik blinked away his thoughts, realizing that he'd been completely tuning her out. "Sorry, what?"

"I can understand muddled thoughts, when you're so troubled," McGonagall said, "but it would do you well to _listen_ when I'm trying to help you."

"I am," Malik assured her. "Sorry. Won't happen again. Can you repeat the question?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "I asked if you knew what you were going to do."

"I can't answer that." Malik replied honestly.

Her sharp eyes snapped to his. "Why not?"

_Jeez, _he grumbled, _for a secretive old grouch, she sure asks a lot of questions._

Malik glanced out to the side, out through the open arch. The forest sprawled outside, beautiful as usual. He turned back to McGonagall, his hands deep into his pockets.

"Stupidity got us to where we are right now," he answered quietly, his voice harsh with an emotion that McGonagall could not decipher, "and that's how we're going to get out of this mess."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, another wordless question.

His eyes were shadowed, as he levelled them to hers. A wan smile spread across his lips, and he glanced back out towards the expanse of forest outside of the castle.

"We're going to be stupid."

The silence that followed was deafening. McGonagall stood, opposing him, her eyes sharp and her mouth a thin line. Her hands were still folded in front of her long, black dress. Malik stood, waiting for her judgment. He knew what she would say. It was a bad idea. They were going to get themselves killed. This was ridiculously childish in every way possible-

"Very well."

Malik's eyebrows shot up. "Wh-what?" he sputtered, having not seen that response coming at all.

McGonagall seemed to deflate, letting out a deep sigh. She suddenly looked very tired, much like a woman of her age, as opposed to the fiery, snappy woman she'd always presented herself as.

"I cannot dictate what the two of you do," she said, her hand absently finding the brooch at her throat. "I cannot tell you whether or not your ideas are wrong. I do not hold authority here. This is not my place."

"Then why did you come?" The question was out before Malik realized it. He winced at the harshness of his words, suddenly wanting to snatch them right out of the air before she could hear them.

McGonagall took no offense, however. A relief. "I came to offer my help, should you need it." She stared straight at Malik, an even gaze that was more disconcerting than anything. "And I have strong suspicions that you will. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you may need it someday. I offer that option to you. I can't stay submissive forever."

It took Malik a moment to swallow all of that. She was basically telling them that she would hold a hand out, when they needed it. Her words had him filling with gratitude. To her, it may not have seemed like much. To him, and to Ryou and Bakura, it could be everything.

"I have one more thing to say." McGonagall told him. "A question, really. I don't want you to explain anything. I'm not asking for that kind of trust from you, Mister Ishtar. I don't deserve it."

Malik would have said something in protest, because he knew that her intentions had been in favour of her loved ones, but she didn't give him a second's chance to interject.

"All I'm asking is that you not deny it, should it be true."

"Yes?" Malik asked, straightening up.

McGonagall stared at him again, straight at him. "You use ancient magic, don't you? I can sense the difference, the way that magic flows around you at a different level. With a different pulse. You and Mister Bakura use a magic that we've long forgotten. I've seen no record of anything like it in all of my years."

Malik levelled his gaze to hers. "That's a very detailed question," he commented. It was really all that she needed to hear to confirm her suspicions.

Satisfied, McGonagall gave him a curt nod. "I will be off, then," she said. Malik had barely registered the farewell by the time that she was vanishing down the corridor, off to reprimand a group of young students who'd just ran past.

Malik slumped back against the open ledge, shivering at the cool breeze. Like a cool Egyptian night.

He smiled grimly. He had someone to consult, about some things. Sighing, Malik pulled out his Millennium Rod, and made off to find a place where he could dump his body without it being seen by any students.

* * *

Nagini slipped up the steps, leading to where her Master stood over a table of maps, symbols, and writings. She leaned against his leg, curling around them with pleasure.

"Hello, Nagini," he greeted, not taking his eyes off of his work. Nagini's master was a very dedicated man, after all.

The door creaked open, and Nagini whirled around, fangs bared at the intruder. A black-cloaked man entered, his hand waving away the skull mask like black shadow.

The man had long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and deathly pale skin. As he removed his hood, it became obvious just how young he was. He could have only been twenty-five at the oldest. A strong, young servant for the Dark Lord.

His dark eyes darted back and forth, but the young man was unable to bring his gaze up to his Master. It was obvious how awed he was, standing in the Dark Lord's presence.

"McAvity."

Voldemort's voice rang clear through the large, stone room. The servant in question jumped slightly, before settling for standing in reverential terror, almost shaking in his Dark Lord's presence.

Voldemort turned, his cold gaze finding that of his visitor. "Have you located the texts that I wanted?"

The young man nodded quickly, reverently. He produced several photographs from his cloak, which he offered towards his Lord with obvious eagerness.

"Yes, Master. They were hard to find, but when we found the underground chamber of Malik Ishtar's family, we managed to find the maps that led to the texts."

"You do not have the original writings?" Voldemort's voice was curious, but laced with a dangerous undertone. Photographs were not what he had wanted. He had wanted the real things.

"They were immovable, My Lord," McAvity answered hastily, pointing at the pictures. "They are etched in stone. We were surprised also, because we were expecting some kind of book or written text-"

"Ah, yes," Voldemort interrupted, turning his back on the servant. "I should have known that they would be carved hieroglyphics. Hm..." he inclined his head towards McAvity, a wicked smile on his face. The man recoiled away from the look, fearing for the worst.

"What do they say, McAvity?" the Dark Lord asked, his voice melodic and almost kind. Anyone would know otherwise. The cruelty in his eyes soured the kindness beyond salvation.

The man stared for a moment, before finally seeming to register the question. "T-They say that _the answers lie with the Key to His Rebirth, the place where a thousand souls may rest together. With his rise, Ra turns his back on the world."_

Voldemort gave a slow, surreptitious smile. "I see. Wonderful."

He turned away again, sitting down in the lavish armchair of his private quarters. He folded his hands, pleasure evident on his face.

"M-My Lord...?"

Voldemort extended his finger towards his servant. "Find me this place, this 'Key to his Rebirth'." McAvity turned and ran out, the instant that his orders were given. He knew well enough that instant obedience was the only way to survive.

"Come, Nagini."

Nagini perked up instantly and moved to her master, coiling up to his outstretched arm with love.

"Yes, Nagini," Voldemort purred. "This is very, very good news indeed."

* * *

Bakura was not a masochist. He did not have tendencies towards self-inflicted injury. Unless, of course, he was mad.

Bakura was very, very mad.

He'd began with punching walls as he went, trying to vent his anger. That didn't do much for him, though. He wanted to _break_ something, see and feel it snapping under the force of his fist.

That was about when he'd gone outside, found the smallest pocket of trees he could see, and began wreaking hell there.

Any other time, when his mind was clearer, he would have been proud to say that he'd successfully snapped the trunk of a pretty big tree.

Bakura had growled, hissed, and snapped his teeth at the plants. He'd shouted and screamed and cursed through all of his seething, boiling hatred. He'd kicked the earth, with such force that there was a rather large patch beneath him that no longer had any grass.

And through it all, Ryou had been silent.

"These damn _wizards_!" Bakura seethed, snapping the branch of a tree with adrenaline-fuelled ease. He snarled and hurled it, as hard as he could, towards the castle. He didn't bother to watch, to see how far it flew. He went to the next tree, with full intent of destroying it.

"Damn it!" He roared, as loud as he could, delivering a kick to the tree. It shivered and cracked, but did not fall.

_"Yami..."_

Bakura ignored the small voice, panting and heaving, completely out of breath. His knuckles bled, small rivers of red that ran down his fingers and dripped to the ground. He didn't notice the pain. It was insignificant, compared to his rage.

He stood there, arms limp at his sides, glaring at the tree that had not fallen to him. It shivered in the breeze, mocking him. He growled at it. It did not hear him.

_"Yami, please..."_

Bakura blinked at the fuzziness in his vision. He stared straight ahead, trying to get some kind of focus. "What is it?"

Ryou appeared, in a spectral form that Bakura used so often. His eyes were filled with sadness, red at the rims, as if he'd been crying. He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, noticing where Bakura's gaze had wandered. _"We can't keep doing this." _The young man whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

"Doing what?" Bakura asked, expressionless. He raised a hand to his lips and licked the blood off of his knuckles.

Ryou winced. He knew that was going to be painful, when he retook control. Bakura noticed this, and had the good grace to look a little apologetic. Sort of. He was still far too angry to take much heed.

_"Sitting around and waiting for everything to happen for us. We can't keep doing this." _Ryou's voice broke mid-speech. He balled his hands into fists, glaring harshly away to avoid crying again. He knew how Bakura felt about males crying. He knew how Bakura felt about crying in general. He couldn't be weak. Not then. Moving forward, he would have to be strong - stronger than he'd ever been able to be.

"You're suggesting that we leave." Bakura said.

_"Yes. I am."_

Bakura's eyes were cool and hard as flint. "You realize that that coincides with your vision."

_"I do. But some things..." _he trailed off, taking a deep breath to calm himself, and continued. _"Some things have to coincide. We can't bring change just sitting here."_

"Sitting here would change everything."

_"And you, you of all people, are suggesting that we do NOTHING?" _Ryou exploded, his voice echoing through the spiritual projection. _"You WANT to just sit here, waiting for _Him_ to find _us_?"_

Bakura's gaze remained cool, calm, impassive. He waited patiently for Ryou to finish, his lip curling up into a feral smile. "You cannot handle what lies ahead. You know that, Ryou."

_"I do know." _Ryou hissed, his voice low and dangerous, very reminiscent of how Bakura sounded when angry. Bakura's eyes snapped open wide, surprise flashing across his face. _"I know everything. About what you and Malik still decided to hide from me. About what the vision said will happen." _Ryou sagged, hugging his arms around himself.

"You knew," Bakura breathed. He had been so sure that...how had Ryou figured it out?

_"But I can't just do nothing," _he whispered, his voice breaking. _"I can't do that, no more than you or Malik can. I can't do much, but I can do what I can to change things."_

Bakura narrowed his eyes towards the tree, a wan smile curling his lips, the ferocity replaced with dark amusement. "You speak as if fate itself will change course for you."

_"If it does not move for me, I will move it."_

Something flickered behind Bakura's eyes. "Wise words." His expression hardened. "Can you back them up?"

_"Yes."_

Ryou shocked himself by how much he meant it. He would change fate. He would save everyone who had been damned in his vision. He would stop the chain of events. He would alter its course, no matter what it cost to him.

He had to do it for them.

Bakura stared at his skinned knuckles, examining the exposed, stinging skin. He didn't look up into the eyes of the determined young hikari beside him. He didn't need to.

Ryou knew what he wanted. Bakura knew that.

The spirit could feel his rage slowly disappearing, replaced with an empty, bitter sort of resignation. Ryou's view was immovable, as immovable as his own was, when he put his mind to something.

"You're sure about this."

_"I am."_

Bakura let his head fall back, facing up to the sky. "You know that I'll do...whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Ryou smiled wryly. _"Sounds like a love confession." _He remarked.

"Shut up."

_"I'm sorry." _Ryou grinned ruefully.

Bakura glanced over Ryou's way and smirked. "But you know what I mean."

Ryou smiled back. _"I do."_

"Then I'll go with you. That's all I needed to know."

Ryou blinked.

"I was always on board, Ryou." Bakura explained, his smirk falling away, replaced with seriousness. "But I need to be sure that you'll agree. I won't force you anymore."

_"Thank you." _Ryou murmured, staring off at the expanse of beautiful green before them.

The sound of birds, chirping and flying, echoed across the landscape. The sun was setting. Another day had nearly past.

_"You know,"_ Ryou said after a long moment, _"I think I may actually miss this place."_

"I won't."

And both of them smiled.

* * *

_Malik had become accustomed to the sudden sensation of sand beneath his feet. Sand that had no heat or cold. It had substance, but nothing else._

_A chill ran up his spine, and he knew that Marik was nearby. Though the dark spirit's threat had diminished, Malik couldn't help the instinctive reaction to his presence._

_"Malik."_

_He glanced ahead, squinting in the mist that surrounded him. Marik was nowhere to be seen. He glanced on either side. Nothing._

_"Where the hell a-"_

_A hand on his shoulder sent him yelling back, spinning on his foot and reaching for the Millennium Rod. He whipped it out, pointing it straight at the grinning face of Marik._

_"Don't do that, you fool!" Malik snapped, replacing the Rod into his pocket. "I would have overtaken you in an instant."_

_"Yes," Marik agreed sarcastically, "I'm sure. The fact that the Millennium Rod neither works in here nor works against me at all would certainly be nothing more than a small obstacle."_

_Malik rolled his eyes, relaxing his body from attack mode. "But did you really need to do that?"_

_"I like to seek the small pleasures of non-life."_

_"That's nice."_

_But Marik didn't smile. Malik raised an eyebrow at the other's sudden lack of humour. Marik just raised a hand, swirling it through the mist._

_"I need to talk to you," Malik said._

_"I am aware," came the bored reply._

_"I..." Malik trailed off, glaring down at the sand he stood on. It was white, unlike the sand of Egypt he so missed. "I need...to know some things."_

_"Hm."_

_"You are aware of my death."_

_Marik raised his eyes, meeting Malik's heated stare. The young man's eyes were almost frenzied, filled with a dreading anticipation. _

_"You don't wish for me to confirm it."_

_"Do it anyway."_

_Marik did not smile. He did not exhibit any sort of pleasure towards Malik's discomfort. "You will die at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, killed by a magic that you have barely adapted to."_

_"Whatever. Can I change it?"_

_"The event is set in stone."_

_"So I can't."_

_"No. Not the event. The spell will be cast at you, and you will not have time to move. No one will be near enough to pull you out of the way. Ryou will see it coming, as will the Spirit of the Ring. Neither can help nor save you."_

_Malik grimaced. "Lovely. I'm completely fucked."_

_"Should you choose to word it as such. Yes."_

_Malik fisted his hand, mist dancing away from his skin, then returning to cascade around his arm. He stared at it, fixated by it._

_"The Spirit of the Ring told you something, did he not?"_

_"Yeah," Malik said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He said that 'the future isn't always set in stone'. You seem to think otherwise."_

_"I said nothing of the sort."_

_"Didn't you, now?"_

_Marik shot Malik a deadpan look. "I said that the event cannot be changed. The spell must be cast. Your death, however, is not absolute."_

_Malik's eyes went wide, surprise written all across his face. It vanished, replaced by confusion and then scepticism. "You're serious."_

_"Of course."_

_"I'm confused."_

_"I'm not surprised," Marik sneered, his teeth pulling back over his lips in a lazy, vicious smile, "you've never been particularly adept at theorizing."_

_"If it's a theory," Malik snapped right back, "then I don't want any part in it. I want something absolute."_

_"This is absolute."_

_"You just called it 'theorizing'."_

_Marik went silent, staring at Malik with a very unimpressed expression on his face. Malik stared right back, equally unimpressed. _

_"Would you like my help or not, little fool?"_

_Malik snorted at the nickname. "I don't know. Is it going to benefit me?"_

_"Without your survival, I cannot exist. Why wouldn't I help you?"_

_"Well," Malik hissed, "aren't you just an exceptional salesman."_

_"You're grating on my nerves."_

_"I think I have license to," Malik said, eyes going dark, "considering my future."_

_"That means nothing. Death is inevitable."_

_"I can't just leave Ryou and Bakura in the middle of this mess. I can't just-"_

_"You need to trust me, Malik."_

_Malik stopped, his train of thought crashing. Had Marik just...? _

_They stared at each other again. Marik's gaze was filled with nothing but seriousness and a small, underlying tone of expectancy. Malik stared in blatant confusion, his mouth agape. He really didn't have a clue how to respond._

_"I know your inferior mortal brain is having trouble," Marik commented, "but we don't have a lot of time, as you love to keep pointing out."_

_"Trust...you...?" Malik mouthed, floundering for a moment, then managed to form cohesive words. "You...want me to trust you."_

_"That seems to be the general point, yes."_

_Malik stared. He stared and stared and stared. Nothing behind Marik's dark violet gaze betrayed anything but genuineness. Marik knew the gravity of the situation. He wasn't toying with Malik. Not this time._

_But Malik knew Marik. He knew what Marik had been. He knew the horrible things that he was capable of committing without a glance back. _

_Could he trust that? Could he trust something with such little conviction? Marik cared little for anything that didn't benefit himself. Going out of his way to help Malik just didn't fit his character._

_Or did it? Hadn't Marik said something about his personality being ever-changing? Fundamentally the same, on the same foundation, but a different building every time._

_Then again, he could have been lying._

_Marik held his hand out then, offering a handshake, like a sealing of a deal. With uncomfortable clarity, Malik remembered the deal that Bakura had made with Voldemort, an attempt at snatching some trust that had never come. _

_Would this be the same?_

_No. No more asking questions. He had to decide. Things couldn't just come down to a million questions, constantly trying to weigh the pros and cons. Eventually, you had to take the plunge._

_So Malik did._

_Malik raised his own hand, lifting it up to grip the one held out to him, so identical to his own. He lifted his eyes to Marik's, who looked subtly pleased._

_"I'll trust you, Marik."_

_"I am glad, little fool."_

End Chapter

GUYS, I found a piece of ART depicting a scene from this fic! Check it out, the link is on my profile. It was from when Malik and Marik first confronted each other, in the dreamscape.

Thanks again for all of you inspiring me to get out another freakishly long chapter. It was fun. I'm glad to finally get the ball a-rolling.

Review! Critique fuels my soul! (kind of).


	24. Altered

I absolutely cannot fathom the fact that my fic-baby has almost reached four hundred reviews. Cannot believe it.

I just want to thank you all and apologize for not having the time to respond to the individual reviews. If you have any particular questions, though, I'll be able to answer them in one of these here thingies. But I do thank and appreciate you all! (throws cyber cookies around)

By the way...here's that action you guys have been waiting so patiently for. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter...yet...(maniacal cackle)

_- Ryou to Bakura -_

_"Bakura to Ryou"_

_(Marik to Malik)_

_Malik to Marik._

_Malik to Bakura/Ryou_

Chapter Twenty-Four

Altered

The corridors were silent, save for the whispering of trees rustling outside of the school. At night, like this, one would almost find the castle peaceful. Once upon a time, it very well may have been. These days, such a thing was not possible. Not for the magical world, at least.

They slipped through the hallways, disguised in shadow. No one but an exceptionally skilled tracker would be able to catch them. After all, under a Thief King's instruction, stealth was not a problem.

Darkness enshrouded every inch of the castle. In all but the very main hallways, the lamps had been extinguished. It made for a particularly simple getaway. Too easy, in fact.

Bakura stopped at a corner, extending his aura out past himself. He could sense no other presence. Then again, he found that the wizards' auras were nigh impossible to detect, and he had thousands of years to practice the skill.

_Necrofear, _he called out with his mind, brushing the consciousness of his servant, _have you come across anything, yet?_

The Shadows coiled and warmed, curling around his mind. It was a very fond "no", pleasure that its master had not run into trouble, yet. Still, he could sense the disappointment behind Dark Necrofear's growing battle-lust. It had not been given much chance to wreak havoc in a very, very long while.

The Shadows were restless.

"So...?" Malik asked, nudging Bakura with his leg. Bakura knelt in a low crouch, propping himself up against the wall with one hand. Malik stood behind him, bent down but not nearly as low as Bakura. He was wielding his Millennium Rod, holding it in one hand like a dagger.

Bakura glanced back, his red eyes a sharp, glowing red in the darkness. "Dark Necrofear seems to be convinced that the coast is clear."

"So far," Malik added.

"So far," the spirit agreed in a low voice, sounding uncharacteristically solemn.

Malik had a feeling that Bakura, also, was worried about why it'd been so very easy. They were nearly to the Great Hall, which was nearly to the entrance, where they could just "haul ass", as Malik put it, as fast as they could out of the grounds.

Then they could vanish into London, and pray that they would find some kind of way to get to the Malfoy Manor in time to save Ryou's father.

The chances of all of that going off without a hitch were slim to nil, which was why all of them were so worried.

Except for Marik. He seemed to be quite enjoying himself, especially since he and Malik had agreed that, should Amycus or Alecto pop up, he'd get control. Malik didn't really feel like being merciful, and Marik was the most evil thing he could sic on just about anyone.

_But this has to be the most unplanned stunt I've pulled in my entire life, _Malik thought, nearly jumping out of his skin when he realized that Bakura had already prowled around the corner and halfway down the hall. As quietly as he could, Malik ran to keep up with him.

_It's even worse than the entire road trip idea, and that one was a doozy. _

A chuckle echoed within his head. Malik could practically see the smug smirk of Marik's face. _(Che, yes, let us not forget that this entire situation is essentially your fault.)_

Malik growled a low warning, gaining only a glare and a shushing from Bakura, who was close enough now to be within immediate hearing range.

Malik inclined the Millennium Rod slightly towards Bakura, pulling with his magic until a connection opened up between them. Bakura bristled, obviously tense enough that Malik's magic was sending warning bells off in the spirit's head.

_This is so much easier__, _Malik said to the white-haired thief in front of him.

_- Next time, warn me, - _Bakura hissed, teeth grinding audibly. _- Or next time, I may do something stupid, thinking we're under attack. - _

Malik almost commented on how that didn't seem too far from normal, considering all of them _often _did stupid things thinking that they were under attack. Still, it was a notable fact that they were usually _right_ when they overreacted.

It was especially true with Bakura. If the spirit seemed like he was overreacting, then the situation was bad. The Spirit's behaviour got even more convoluted from that point, though. If he was reacting calmly and coolly, then the situation was usually life-or-death. Bakura just seemed to be like that. It was confusing, sure, but it seemed to have kept him sort of alive for thousands of years...so Malik wasn't about to knock the concept.

Earlier that night, Bakura had returned, looking decidedly calmer than he had when Malik had last seen him. Malik had relayed what had gone on with McGonagall, but had kept his mouth shut about his meeting with Marik.

Marik had made express instruction not to tell either of the other two about the two of them speaking. Though there wasn't much to tell, as Marik hadn't even told Malik what the deal precisely was. Marik had also made it quite clear that he wasn't going to tell.

This had Malik worried, but he had already agreed to trust Marik. What other choice did he have?

Thus, he had kept the conversation with Marik to himself. In return, Bakura had hinted that he and Ryou had come to a sort of agreement, but he hadn't delved into the matter. Malik hadn't asked, either.

_"It's time, Malik." _Bakura had said, after they'd finished relaying anything that was of any importance. _"We're done with fooling around here."_

_"I know. Are we moving tonight?"_

_"Yes. Get your bag packed."_

As opposed to using any sort of suitcases, they'd just grabbed the small duffle bags that Draco's mother - Narcissa, Malik thought her name was - had provided them with before they'd left Malfoy Manor the first time. They'd begun packing, just throwing in whatever they could fit.

They had opted to keep their decks on them, especially during the escape. Malik had even placed his favourite monsters at the top, should he need to get them out quickly. After all, he could summon, since his magic had returned.

_(But do remember that your magic is not as powerful as it could be. I wouldn't want you dying on me so quickly.)_

Malik snorted at Marik's comment. _Do you only talk when you see fit to piss me off? _

_(It's a hobby.) _The darker half answered flippantly. Malik could feel the presence receding.

His relationship with Marik was certainly unlike what Yami and Yugi, even what Ryou and Bakura had. The others were two halves of one whole, working in perfect, necessary synchronization. Malik and Marik were like begrudging roommates splitting payment on everything. Did they make a perfect fit? Not a chance. They did, however, suck it up to work together when they had to.

But that didn't mean that either of them liked it.

Malik halted at the sudden signal from Bakura, the spirit's hand raised in a silent gesture to stop. He blinked, glancing past him, realizing that a small crowd of students were sneaking past.

_What's up with that__?_ Malik queried, noticing the tenseness in Bakura's shoulders. He braced himself, knowing that things could possibly get ugly.

_"They're prefects," _Bakura answered after a long moment. Malik could see his eyes following the retreating cloaks intently, _"back from a party. All Slytherins."_

_Surprising._

Bakura declined to respond, but the ghost of a smirk on his face was answer enough. Malik raised his eyes back to the corridor, just as the group rounded the corner and disappeared from their view.

_Go?_He asked Bakura, both mentally and physically nudging him. He knew that they had to be careful, but Malik wanted to get out of the castle as soon as was possible.

They should have gotten away much, much sooner. They shouldn't have let themselves be held back by Ryou's vision, by something that was inevitable no matter what route they took. Fate was like that, sometimes - there were just some things that were set in stone. Not all things, but some.

Bakura waited a few moments, just to be sure, before giving Malik a very quick nod. Had Malik not been watching the white-haired male for any kind of body language, he would have missed the gesture. _"Go."_

There was an urgency in Bakura's tone, Malik noticed. It was subtle, but it was there. It was also something that he wasn't used to hearing within the spirit's voice. It disquieted him, a bit.

They darted out from the wall, stealing up the corridor in the direction the students had gone. Instead of turning the corner, however, they kept to the main hallway.

Malik's stomach tightened in anticipation. Almost there. Once they were at the Great Hall, it was pretty much a dash to the door. Anywhere in the school was still trouble, of course. They still had to be careful.

As the Great Hall came in sight, a ways down the corridor, Malik began to worry the knot of uneasiness inside of him. Something was wrong. It shouldn't have been this easy. After making her grand proclamation, Alecto Carrow would have been on high alert. She had to have known that they'd make a break for it.

She'd backed them up into a corner, after all. What else were they to do?

She had to have realized that. Malik hated to compliment his enemies, but the Carrow siblings were smart. One or both of them would have guessed their next move. Someone should have tried to stop them, by now.

As if to answer Malik's question, Bakura suddenly slammed to a halt. Malik, having not anticipated the action, nearly bowled the other male over, having managed to slow himself in the nick of time. He still ran into Bakura's back, but the impact barely made the spirit stumble.

"The hell was that for?" Malik hissed out loud through gritted teeth, rubbing his cheek where his face had connected with the back of Bakura's head.

Bakura glanced back, red eyes full of...confusion? Anticipation? "Dark Necrofear has vanished, back into the Shadow Realm."

And everything clicked into place, right then and there. They were waiting for them, to ambush them in the Great Hall.

_We can't go any other direction. The front of the school is the fastest way off of the grounds. _

_"I realize that. Did we discover any other ways to get out the front of the school?"_

Malik paused, rethinking the weeks upon weeks that they'd spent at Hogwarts. _Without a freefall from one of the towers, we really don't have any other way out._

Bakura turned, steering Malik to a side corridor. _"I'm not chancing it. We'll get outside and make a break for the front of the school from there."_

Malik's eyes bugged at Bakura's suggestion. _Are you goddamned nuts? We'll be completely out in the open, if we go that way._

_"What other choice do I have?" _Bakura seethed. He continued off in that direction.

Malik made a grab for the white-haired male, trying to stop him. "This is completely-"

"Stupid, to think that we wouldn't have known your every move."

Both of them stopped, recognizing the cold, musical tone. Malik wouldn't have missed it for anything. He turned slowly, to see exactly what he hadn't wanted to face.

Alecto Carrow, flanked by both her brother and a cloaked man he didn't recognize, stood across from them, in the entrance to the Great Hall. She wore a feral smile, one that would have chilled any normal human to the bone.

Malik, not being a "normal human", sneered at her. "Alecto Carrow."

"Malik Ishtar," she greeted back, "and Ryou Bakura," she added.

"A pleasure, really." Her brother commented, his voice smooth and velvety. It reminded Malik of a snake, which only served to irritate him further. Amycus grinned, then, a slow, toothy smile that was filled with maliciousness. Malik couldn't help but feel that the snake-bastard had made an excellent choice in a servant.

"Sorry, but I don't share the sentiment," Malik answered, flashing a vicious smile of his own. He wanted to convey to them just how much he intended to fight. They were not going to take him down easily.

"It seems," Bakura drawled, "that we're not getting out of here without killing somebody." He threw Malik a sidelong glance filled with animalistic amusement, "and here I was thinking that our track record was so _good_ this time."

"Intimidation attempts are futile," Amycus said in an even voice. Malik scrutinized him for a moment, though, and could see the wariness shifting behind his eyes.

That was all the spark that Malik needed.

Shadow Magic pulsed around him, coiling and shifting around his aura. It encircled him, begging to be released by its Master.

The wizards could see the Shadows. The expressions of open caution and almost _fear_ were too good to be true.

_Should we just go for it?_ Malik queried to Bakura, sparing only a slight glance in the spirit's direction. From what he could see of the male beside him, Bakura looked like a spring about to snap.

There was a dark chuckle inside his mind, and for a moment he thought it was Marik. Instead, however, it was Bakura who spoke. _"Go for it."_

Malik watched as Bakura's hand went down, lightning fast, to his deck. He had put on one of those belt-style deck carrying cases around his leg. It made for the easiest of access. Malik had just stuffed his deck into one of his pant pockets.

Bakura drew a card from his deck, glancing at it for only a second before that familiar, violent smile appeared on his face. He extended his hand towards the three wizards. "Willing to beg for mercy?" he queried in a soft voice, one that was smoother than velvet but dangerous enough to even make Malik tense.

None of the wizards replied. They stood their ground, brandishing their wands in preparation for attack.

"No?" Bakura's smile was pleasant. "Well, then," his eyes flamed red, brighter than Malik had ever seen them, and equally less human, "I summon Headless Knight!" Bakura flipped the card in his fingers, so that the familiar picture was facing out towards the wizards they opposed.

The magic caved around Bakura, diving into his essence. It streaked up his arm and into the card, exploding out from the square paper with more force than the wizards had evidently anticipated. All three had taken a few steps back in fear.

The monster appeared, formed from the shadows that Bakura controlled. It roared, brandishing the sword it favoured for battle.

Bakura grinned. Alecto snarled.

"Your illusions cannot harm me!" She declared, waving her wand towards him, "_Crucio!_"

Bakura dodged out of the way of the spell. Malik had to appreciate the fact that with their magic, it'd given them the need to build up stamina and physical ability. Their pure physical superiority to these wizards was astounding. It closed the modern day spell casters off to a world of fighting opportunity.

Bakura nodded to his creature, and it lunged forwards, towards the man they didn't know. "Who said that they were illusions?" the white haired spirit queried.

The man, apparently deciding not to heed Bakura's words, stood his ground. He waited patiently, wand extended outwards. Apparently he was going to prove a point, by watching the sword pass harmlessly through him. It was an obvious attempt to impress Alecto and Amycus.

Unfortunately for him, however, when the sword descended, it was solid. A loud squelch of metal on flesh sounded, and blood sprayed out from where the weapon hit. The man's mouth opened in a silent scream, one of infinite shock and agony. Then came the grinding of the weapon tearing through bone and organs. It was over. The man was dead. He had signed his own death warrant with his ignorance.

The man fell, cut in half by a monster whose strength far surpassed the durability of the human body, as two separate pieces onto the floor. Blood pooled in a sickly, dark puddle around the fallen corpse. Malik could still see his face - those eyes wide open and lifeless, the expression frozen into shock. His last moments.

Malik looked away from the grisly scene. He hadn't expected much better. Bakura was ruthless, something that he had shown very little of during any time he had faced the Pharaoh. In fact, Malik could safely say that _His_ grasp on Bakura's mind had considerably weakened the spirit. A good thing, too. Otherwise, the Pharaoh wouldn't have stood a chance.

Malik wondered if Bakura knew that. Sometimes, he had a feeling that he did. Perhaps that was why Bakura hadn't gone after him, yet. Not since he'd regained his mind. Perhaps he knew just how powerful he was.

Or perhaps he just hadn't had the same agenda. Malik didn't know. He didn't pretend to understand the workings of Bakura's mind. Ryou was the only soul on earth who ever would.

Alecto Carrow reeled back, eyes bulging at the dead man on the ground. Her hands shook, but whether from rage or terror, Malik didn't know. She turned to them suddenly, focusing furious eyes onto Bakura. "How dare you?" she shrieked, voice shrill.

Her brother raised his wand out towards them, having recovered quicker than his sister had. "You will pay for that, impudent _brats_."

Bakura grinned, bracing his body to move. The spells were fast, but if either of them could calculate quickly enough, they could dodge them. The Headless Knight shifted with him, moving into an identical fighting stance.

"Syncing it...?" Malik asked, indicating the monster.

Bakura cast Malik a sharp glance. "Just summon something."

Malik's fingers twitched towards his deck. "Good thi-"

_"Avada Kedavra!" _

Malik's face went white, and he threw himself to the side, hitting the ground at a roll. As he tried to reorient himself, Bakura attacked with his Knight. Amycus seemed to have figured it out, though, because he pointed his wand at it and cast that same killing curse. It hit the Headless Knight straight on, and the creature exploded in a fireworks show of shadows.

Bakura clenched his fists, obviously feeling the after-effects of losing a monster. When one summoned in a Shadow Duel, the loss of any creature was physically draining.

"You fool," Amycus shouted at his sister, "the Dark Lord said _alive!"_

Well, that was a small comfort.

Malik compensated for Bakura's moment of loss, and dug his hand into his pocket. "I summon: Newdoria!" He snapped his hand forward, card facing out.

The pull of the Shadows was enough to make him stumble up to his feet. In front of him, the gruesome creature formed. Alecto looked visibly repulsed, but Amycus looked ready for battle.

It was obvious, then, which of the two carried out the dirty activities. It was plain to Malik that Alecto was the threatening force and Amycus was the follow-through.

_"Shadow Teleport. Outside."_

Malik's eyes widened, and he threw a glance Bakura's way. Alecto had thrown another spell their way, and his Newdoria had leapt in to defend its master. It was a total waste, as the monster had just been summoned. The creature popped out of existence, and a shudder racked up and down Malik's body.

_That's going to get us killed, you fool!_

_"And standing here-" _Bakura made a dash for Malik, and though their minds were connected, it seemed almost as if Bakura were yelling at him from across a room. _"Is only going to make things worse!"_

Bakura grabbed onto Malik's arm and they were wrenched backwards, into the Shadows. It was brief, because of the short distance from where they were to the door. At least it would stall for some time.

They reappeared right in front of the massive doors. Inside.

Malik snapped his head to Bakura, "didn't you say _outside_?"

"I can't be summoning and transporting at the same time, Malik," Bakura snapped, grabbing the front of Malik's shirt and hauling him to a slightly smaller access door, located right beside the massive entrance. The spirit kicked it open, not bothering to unlock it. It crashed against the stone of the castle.

The cool, morning air hit Malik in the face with enough of a shock to stun him for a moment. Bakura wasn't wasting time, however. He elbowed Malik roughly, and started running. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

_"Crucio!"_

The red spell hit Bakura square in the back. Malik hit the deck, but had been moving enough that the momentum of his roll got him back onto his feet. He caught up to Bakura, not sparing a glance back at the Carrows, who had obviously caught up with them.

"Bakura, come on!"

The spell hadn't had any prolonged contact with Bakura, so it hadn't caused him much more than instant pain.

_"Crucio! Crucio!" _Malik shoved his friend back down, ploughing both of their faces into the wet grass. The spells whooshed over their heads, cracking uselessly against a tree farther ahead of them. Bakura made a very loud noise of protest, struggling slightly against Malik's hold.

"You're still stunned, you idiot!" Malik hissed, and dug his hand into his deck. He felt around for a moment, praying that he could pull out something useful, spur-of-the-moment.

He lifted the card, glanced at it for barely a second, before shooting his arm out towards the two spell casters.

"Holding arms!" He shouted, and the golden cuffs shot out towards Alecto at blinding speed. She was the one casting the most spells. She was more impulsive. It was better to put her down first.

The golden cuffs slammed into her with audible force, and Malik heard the crack of her body as it hit the stone wall of the school. She let out a scream of rage, and her brother immediately went to free her. More cloaked men appeared in the doorway. Malik cursed. They weren't going to be able to keep summoning so freely in such a magic-drenched area for a whole lot longer. It was suicidal.

"Get up!" Someone shouted urgently from nearby. Malik, not really bothering to figure the source of the voice, hauled himself up, forcing Bakura onto his feet, also. The spirit was a little shaky, but at least his eyes looked lucid and mostly pain-free.

Malik's head snapped up, and he saw a black-masked, hooded figure running straight at them. It wasn't a Death Eater. Everything about their aura screamed youth and innocence. Malik didn't recall any Death Eaters with black masks, either. They seemed to prefer the more gothic-style skull concept.

The cloaked men began to run out where they could cast more accurate spells, looking panicked and hoping to beat out the two's mysterious rescuer.

"Let's go," Malik murmured to Bakura, helping him steady himself.

Bakura didn't have a chance to answer, because the cloaked figure grabbed them both by the arms, dragging them off at a dead sprint. Malik saw Bakura stumble, so he kept an arm on him so that he didn't bring all three of them down.

The Death Eaters had gone to help Alecto before giving chase, something that she obviously disagreed with.

"You fools! Don't help me, get them!"

The three of them, however, hadn't wasted any time. They had gained a good bit of distance, vanishing around a turret of the castle.

"Get them! Get them!"

The Death Eaters, only five counting the Carrows, went to chase them. Malik glanced back, seeing the wild-haired woman appear around the corner after them.

_"Crucio!" _She screamed, but Malik anticipated the attack and jerked the three of them off to the side. The spell whizzed past Bakura's right arm, barely missing him.

"Can you do that apparating thing?" The voice, definitely male, shouted. It sounded like a student. It also sounded familiar.

"What?" Malik asked back, not really understanding the question.

"Apparating! Transporting us!"

Malik blinked, and comprehension began to dawn on him. Bakura leaned back, forcing them to a stop. He took a firm hold of both of them.

"Where the fuck to?" he demanded, giving the cloaked figure a shake, as if to speed up the answer.

"Into the castle!"

Bakura didn't need to make any sort of response. He just closed his eyes, focusing the Shadows. Malik could hear more spells shouted, but they had been pulled back into the stream of the Shadows before any could hit them.

They touched back onto solid stone. Not wasting any time, the cloaked figure gestured for them to follow him.

"We don't have much time. They'll bring in reinforcements within minutes!"

Malik didn't really need any further incentive. He just ran, forcing himself to focus entirely on the black covered back in front of him. To the person who had just spontaneously decided to help them.

Not that he wasn't grateful. They'd sort of botched the original escape. Malik hadn't banked on their Shadows shorting out from such immediate and large use. He should have realized that, after being dormant for such a long time, the Shadows wouldn't have been able to function within their bodies at such a level of power without killing them.

He cursed under his breath.

They continued running through the hallways, led by their faceless rescuer. The halls that had been silent suddenly buzzed with movement, most likely teachers trying to figure out what was going on. Students, also, had most likely come to find out what had happened.

As they ran, they only ran into two people. One of which was a DA student, and one of which was Professor McGonagall, who gave them a half-hearted call to stop running in the hallways, but otherwise ignored them.

Malik had to wonder if she was in on whatever seemed to be going on. She'd been aware of this escape, but the look on her face had said that she knew that whoever this was helping them had intended to do so.

They rounded many corners and ran down many hallways, most of which were still pitch black. Their helper was definitely a student. He knew exactly how to get around the school in the dark. It was too familiar for anyone other than a student or a teacher, and the voice had been too young for any of the teachers at the school.

The distant sound of approaching footsteps, _running_ footsteps, alerted Malik to the fact that their pursuers seemed to be back on their trail.

_"Stupefy!"_

The cloaked boy dragged them around the corner, just in time for them to narrowly avoid being hit by the spell. It was a knock-out spell, Malik thought. He could have sworn he'd seen someone use it in a class, somewhere.

They dashed around one last corner before they came to a very familiar set of doors. The figure pushed them open, hastily shoving the two inside. He then turned around and closed the doors quietly. Malik watched as the entrance melted into the stone, leaving nothing but a solid wall.

"We needed a blocked entrance," the boy supplied, gesturing at the wall. "They won't be able to find us, at least."

"At least," Malik said, putting his hands on his knees and bending over to catch his breath. "What a chase."

"Nothing more difficult than what the two of you were planning. Although, luckily, my idea can actually get you out of here."

Bakura, who had seemed to be not very out of breath at all, cocked an eyebrow. "You're saying that your plan was bad?"

"I prefer to be a pacifist," he explained, and lifted his hand up to remove the mask. It vanished into thin air. A spell. The hood of the cloak came down, and the boy grinned a little sheepishly. "But I suppose that's what I meant."

"Neville Longbottom," Malik breathed. That was not someone that he'd been expecting. Neville, though open to their help, had not seemed like the kind of person to run an impulsive rescue attempt and smuggle people out of a school.

"Professor McGonagall approached me," he explained. "She wanted to help you two out herself, because she knew your plan wouldn't work-" Neville's eyes sharpened, and he turned to them fully, "-didn't you realize that just running for it would have gotten the both of you killed? You can't just outrun wizards all the way out of the school grounds."

"It was the only plan of action that we had." Malik snapped, a little irate at being chastised by a kid that was probably younger than him.

"Anyways," Neville continued, "she knew that she'd need to be seen by the Death Eaters. It would have been too compromising for her to actively help you. It would jeopardize the safety of other students. So...she asked me."

"To risk your ass to help a couple of foreigners you barely trust?" Malik let out a low whistle. "If I were you, I would have told her to shove it."

Neville's lips twitched up into a wry sort of smile. "Well, luckily for the both of you, I'm not you."

"We don't have this kind of time to waste," Bakura interrupted, taking a step forward to make himself more known. "Can you get us out of here?"

Neville nodded, moving towards a painting and lifting it back. It revealed a long, stone tunnel. Malik and Bakura exchanged expressions of surprise. They hadn't known that was there.

"From here," Neville said, indicating the tunnel, "I can take you through this tunnel, which leads to the Hog's Head, a bar in Hogsmead. It's a wizard town that students frequent for shopping. It'll be deserted now, of course. It's too dangerous to shop in these times. It's outside of the school grounds, though. Far out. You can get yourselves out of the area and back into London from there. I don't know your motives, so I can't help you out much from that point."

"That's fine," Malik said. "We can work with this 'Hogsmead' place. We can use our magic to...apparate ourselves there."

Malik wasn't really in the mood for explaining the logistics of the Shadow Magic to a wizard. Besides, they'd already gotten one of them involved. Involving a second wizard was apt to cause even more mayhem.

Footsteps passed, barely audible through the stone wall.

"Find them!" Someone shouted. Actually, it sounded more like a screech, which led Malik to believe that Alecto was getting particularly frustrated.

The sound of footsteps faded away.

Neville shot a wary glance to the wall. "Come on. We don't have much time."

_(The child is right. Standing around is going to be more trouble than it's worth.)_

Malik had to agree.

Neville walked over to the opening, standing with one hand on the painting and gesturing for Malik and Bakura to enter.

"I'll have to seal the entrance up. I don't want anyone finding out about this tunnel, just yet."

"You're the only one who knows?" Bakura asked brusquely, and the whip-sharp edge to his voice caught Neville visibly off-guard.

"Y-yes...myself and Luna, that is." Neville stuttered out.

_What was that about?_

Bakura caught Malik's eyes for only a second, stepping past him and into the stone tunnel. _"No matter what they say, I don't trust these children enough that only one of them should know where we are going. If Luna also knows of this tunnel, then I can accept that."_

_So basically you just don't want Neville being the only one who knows the location where our bodies are left._

Bakura didn't respond. Malik snorted slightly, finding Bakura's reasoning entirely too paranoid. There was justified caution, and then there was the crap that Bakura worried about.

He followed the spirit into the tunnel, and Neville came last. The young man carefully manoeuvred the painting into place from the back. All light that had lit the tunnel from the entrance vanished once the painting was back into place. Before them, in the darkness, lay a steep flight of stone steps, leading down into the unknown.

Neville pulled his wand out of his sleeve. _"Lumos," _he said, waving it slightly. The tip lit up with a soft, white glow that illuminated the tunnel.

"Follow me," Neville said, passing the two of them and leading the way down the tunnel.

Malik and Bakura did so, side-by-side.

"How'd you discover this, anyways?" Malik asked, looking around the tunnel.

"Accident," Neville answered, "I happened to knock the painting over, one day. It's probably one of the only things that's usually inside the room. I needed an 'escape', just like most people do, these days. So the tunnel will be there so long as we need that."

"Interesting," Bakura commented, not sounding particularly interested whatsoever. His tone of voice made Neville glance back for a second.

The remainder of their journey through the stairway-tunnel was silent. A few minutes passed, before Neville stopped. He turned, smiling ruefully at the two.

"I'm sorry that your stay at Hogwarts wasn't...as pleasant as it could have been."

Bakura snorted. "Understatement of the millennia."

Neville's lips quirked further, and he glanced around. "You know, I'm thinking of conjuring up some lamps for this place. What do you think?"

"Why does it matter, if you've got magic?" Malik asked, unable to help the slight edge of sarcasm that crept into his voice.

Neville shrugged. "For the sake of practicality, I suppose. No point in wasting energy casting spells every time I have to use this place."

"Whatever floats your boat," Malik said.

Neville extinguished his light with a whisper of _"Knox"_, and began groping around the wall in front of him. Instantly, as if the wall were made of some sort of soft substance, not solid stone, a large square popped out of the wall, swinging out on a creaky hinge.

Neville pushed himself up onto the ledge and vaulted out onto the floor of the opposite side. They heard him land, not particularly gracefully, on the other side.

"Okay, come on!" He said to them, his head popping into view.

Bakura went first. He climbed, cat-like, up onto the ledge, sliding down the other side.

Malik was about to follow, when Bakura's words of: "why the _fuck_ did we just climb out of a fireplace?" nearly made him fall backwards and onto the floor beneath him.

Malik was prepared to ask Bakura just what he was talking about, as he vaulted himself through the opening, when he realized that he was climbing over the top of a mantle. Once he was out, a painting swung back over the hole, effectively sealing it. The portrait of a young girl waved at them, a jubilant smile on her face.

Bakura was already glancing around.

"Aberforth, the owner of this place, isn't here right now. Said he'd be out, actually. Asked me to make sure that the two of you didn't dally in his pub for long. He didn't want us making a mess."

Malik cocked an eyebrow, looking around the place. "As opposed to how clean it is now?"

Neville shrugged, not really looking comfortable with saying much of anything in response to that. The Aberforth guy was probably a friend of his.

"Use that door," Neville said, indicating a wooden door to the side of the building. "It'll lead you out into an alley. From there, you can apparate to wherever you need to go."

Bakura turned to Neville, a smile on his face. "Thank you, for everything."

Malik blinked. Brown eyes. Ryou, not Bakura. He wasn't even going to wonder when they'd switched. That was kind of like watching a clock to see when the minute hand changed. If you even blinked, you wouldn't be able to catch it.

He was surprised by how well Neville took the switch. Neville barely even batted an eye at the sudden change. He just smiled right back and said: "thanks, mate, but I think you two have done more than I ever could."

Ryou looked a little surprised. "What? We haven't really done anything...helpful. Other than get ourselves in trouble."

Neville gave Ryou a vague, wry smile. "Though you weren't here that long, I've got a feeling that the three of you-"

_(Four.)_

_Shut up, Marik._

"-have _changed_ things. Somehow. Changed them a lot. It's like your presence here has spun everything off of its intended course and into a future that...is different. I'd like to say that you changed things for the better, but..." Neville trailed off, looking decidedly sobered. He stared off for a moment, before his eyes steeled, and he turned them back onto Malik and Ryou. "But this is a war, and we can't waste time comforting one another."

"You think we've made it worse," Malik observed, frowning.

"I don't know," Neville admitted. "That's why I'm worried."

End Chapter

Well, there you go. I hope that you guys were satisfied with the action. Myself, I was disappointed with this chapter. I don't know about all of you. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Hopefully I can impress more with the next chapter.

Finally, finally, FINALLY, the ball's a-rolling.

Drop a review on your way out! Thanks for readin'!


	25. As the Sand Falls

I'm sorry, again, that it's taken so long. School has been just...wild, really. Now that it's over, however, I totally plan to finish No Strings Attached before the summer's out. Plus, I want to finish The Connection. Maybe. Hopefully.

I'm kind-a sort-a getting there. (laughs)

This chapter was wicked hard to write. I had the worst case of writer's block. I hope that didn't ruin the quality for all of you. Frankly, I didn't like the turn out.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over Harry Potter or Yu-Gi-Oh, nor any characters affiliated.

Chapter Twenty-Five

As the Sand Falls

As luck would have it, they ran into two Death Eaters on the way out of the Hog's Head. To the awful luck of the wizards, neither Malik nor Bakura had the patience nor inclination to deal with them in any sort of merciful fashion. The cloaked wizards had been easy enough to get rid of, and by get rid of, it meant soul-stealing and body-burying.

Malik ended up waging war with Bakura against Ryou, who was very near having a complete meltdown over burying the corpses. Malik, though a reformed criminal, stated quite clearly that both of them had buried bodies before, so it really wasn't something to freak out over. Besides, he had continued, they were the bad guys. They'd definitely gotten what was coming for them.

In the end, Ryou had just opted to close his eyes, plug his ears, and sulk in his soul room as Bakura and Malik dealt with the mess.

It was just as Malik had dismissed the monster he'd summoned to help speed up the burying process that he realized that they had just about drained themselves completely. Well, he'd drained himself. Bakura had stated that he was drained too, but Ryou could manage. The only problem was that Ryou didn't know the first thing about Shadow Teleportation. In fact, Ryou knew little outside of the realm of monster-summoning.

Which led to a very heated, somewhat verbal argument between Ryou and Bakura. Malik actually didn't even have to use his Rod to find out what they were yelling about. They seemed to just be switching in and out of control as they bickered like children.

This was also about the time that Marik had informed Malik that, since he was not like Bakura and did not run on a supply of power mainly separate from his other half, he would not be of much use, either.

Since Ryou and Bakura were separate beings, they had two supplies of magic. It was like two pools of water atop a cliff, running down into waterfalls that intertwined and mixed on the way to the ground. Malik and Marik, however, being of essentially the same soul only split up, ran on the same pool and the same waterfall. Same magic supply. Meaning that if Malik was drained, Marik was feeling it just as badly.

All summed up, it meant that if they had to teleport one more time, they were probably going to be out of commission for at least twenty-four hours. And that was only the time frame that they usually had. This did not factor the concentration of magic in whatever area they ended up in.

After finally pulling Bakura and Ryou out of their squabble, all four of them decided that they would push their magic together enough to get them into downtown London. It was the furthest they could manage with what power they had left, after having only access to so much in the first place. It would take most of their energy, but they would have to manage. Malik had pointed out that they did not have enough to get them a motel. Bakura had pointed out that they would have to cross that bridge when they got to it.

Then, after a few moments of concentration, they vanished from the small wizarding town, reappearing shortly thereafter within the dark streets of London. It was still night time. Bakura slid down the wall of the alley that they had landed in. Malik had followed suit, sitting gingerly down beside the white-haired male, careful not to jostle his throbbing body too much.

Malik felt drained. His bones ached to the very core. This, he realized, was getting to be too much. Being this active with Shadow Magic around an unpredictable, foreign power was drawing on recesses of energy that Malik knew they could not spare.

"I can't stand it."

Malik glanced over to Bakura, cocking an eyebrow. "Can't...stand what?" he asked, a little unsurely. Malik knew how irritable Shadow Users got, after overexerting themselves. Speaking as a Shadow Master himself, the mood swings were both violent and entirely uncontrollable. Therefore, Malik was really not too intent on pushing Bakura's buttons.

Bakura looked down at his hands, which were lying palm-up in his lap. "It feels...it's like I can _sense_ his life shortening, every time we pull something like this."

Malik sighed slowly, eyes moving up to the twinkling night sky. "There's not a whole lot to be done. Shadow Magic is just...like that."

"I don't like it."

"No Shadow Master does."

Bakura blew out what sounded like a mixture of a huff and a curse. The Spirit's head fell back to rest against the cool brick.

"We can't really do anything about it," Malik continued after a moment. "Well, aside from, you know, severing the connection to the magic."

"Ryou wouldn't."

"You would?"

Bakura seemed to think that over, for a moment. "If I deemed it necessary. I suppose. Yes."

Malik forced down an open guffaw of surprise. As long as he'd known the Spirit, he'd always seen him as a fairly selfish being. Lately, of course, he'd been selfless when it came to Ryou, but still. Malik had not seen him being willing to give up his own existence to prolong Ryou's.

The urge to comment on how "Pharaoh" that was leapt up, but Malik held his tongue. He valued his life. Besides, he had things to do.

"I just hate doing this..." Bakura said, voice rough, "it's like I'm taking from his mortality to fuel my own immortality."

"It's not that."

Sharp, red eyes flashed in the darkness. Malik didn't meet the Spirit's gaze.

"Then what is it?"

"Right now?" Malik asked, more to himself than to Bakura. He fell silent for a moment, thinking about that. What _was _it?

He could still feel Bakura's eyes on him, watching and waiting for an answer.

"It's..." he trailed off, trying to find the words, "...more like a civic duty, at this point."

This time, he did look at Bakura. The spirit looked a little unimpressed.

"Civic...duty?" the spirit rolled the words around on his tongue, and from the look on his face, Malik could tell that he wasn't enjoying the taste.

"It was the best description I could find. Duty, maybe?" Malik blew out another sigh. "I don't know. We just...it's like we can't stop now. We have too much that we need to accomplish, and we're too involved to back out now and not be the biggest jerks in the world."

"It's going to get worse, though." Bakura said. "I can feel it. We've gotten off fairly scot free, so far. We've had to do little fighting to get to where we are. That won't last long."

Malik grinned wryly at the comment.

Cars roared by, the headlights illuminating the alley for only seconds at a time. Malik felt raindrops land on his arms, and he sighed slightly. They were in London. Of course it was going to rain on them.

"We should find somewhere to stay," Malik said, as two more drops landed on the back of his hand.

Bakura made no indication that he'd heard Malik at all. The blonde didn't repeat the comment, though. He knew that both of them were probably too drained to move. The adrenaline rush was long gone, and the Shadows were too tired to provide them with any energy.

Besides, Malik knew just how dangerous it was to attempt running solely on Shadow Magic. If you had no energy of your own, the Shadows consumed you.

The weather took a very quick turn for the worst. The rain came down in sheets, covering the streets and making it almost impossible to see out past the alley's end. Both of them got completely drenched. Bakura had closed his eyes, appearing almost at ease and asleep in the awful weather.

Malik brushed some hair from his eyes, tucking it behind an ear. He felt like a drowned cat. He moved his bag behind him, so that it wouldn't get as wet.

"My bad luck rain..."

Malik glanced up, to where Ryou was now sitting. His eyes were open, misty with nostalgia.

"Bad luck rain...?" Malik queried.

Ryou turned his gaze to Malik. "Do you remember, back before Bakura and I found our connection?"

"There was a long time of that, Ryou."

Ryou smiled vaguely. "I know," he said softly, "but I always seemed to have the worst luck imaginable. It always rained when I was walking, and I usually had homework with me. If not homework, something else that could be ruined easily when wet..." he trailed off, the vague smile turning dry.

"But it seemed to change a little, after we connected."

"So, what?" Malik asked, "every time you get drenched it's your 'bad luck rain'?"

Ryou shrugged, neither confirming nor denying it.

"You're weird when you're tired."

_(As opposed to you, who is weird regardless.)_

Malik rolled his eyes.

_(How depleted is your magic?)_

The young blonde's eyebrows rose at this, and he inclined his head down, away from the pouring rain, and also away from where Ryou would be able to see the expressions of annoyance flitting across his face.

_I don't know, _he snapped, _you tell me._

_(Tch. You're such a child, sometimes.)_

_And you're irritating all of the time!_

Marik went silent for a moment. _(I'm asking because we should get moving. To a motel, or something. This is foolish, to just sit here like this.)_

_You can't say you're not feeling the burn of using so much of our power under that kind of magical stress._

_(I never denied the fact.)_

_I can barely move. And Ryou and Bakura were pooling both of their resources just to get us into London._

Malik heard Marik curse under his breath.

_You can't move either, can you?_

There was a long, brooding silence for a moment. Marik blew out a sigh from between clenched teeth. _(No. I don't even have the strength to take control, right now.)_

_Then I guess we're staying here._

_(And pray we don't get killed by a mugger, or something.)_

_I don't pray._

Marik chuckled darkly. _(Neither do I.)_

Malik suddenly felt a wrinkle of magic, and his vision began to dim. He cursed softly, but couldn't do anything about the tug as his mind was pulled backwards. Ryou had explained this feeling to Malik many times, but he could only recall it happening once or twice to himself.

Marik had said that he didn't have the strength to take control. That filthy liar.

_You took me over...you bastard..._ he managed to spit out before the darkness overwhelmed him.

_(I'm sorry.) _Malik was surprised by how genuine that sounded. _(I'll recover faster than you will.)_

Then there was nothing.

* * *

Almost an hour had passed since Marik had taken Malik over. Ryou had caught the change immediately. The way that they held themselves, even when slumped against the wall, was so glaringly obvious that Ryou had figured out what had happened almost instantly.

He'd made a mental note to be careful, and was thankful that Bakura was unconscious, for all intents and purposes. Otherwise, him and Marik would have likely already been going at it.

Even Ryou could tell just how tired the dark spirit was. He had lost as much power as Malik had. It was enough to put a sagging to his usually proud shoulders, a slight heaving in his breath.

It was probably the most surprising part of Ryou's very eventful night. To see Marik like this...Ryou didn't even want to see himself, knowing that he must've looked much worse than the spirit did. Ryou felt utterly drained past healing. He felt like a shrivelled plant, just waiting to die.

He knew otherwise, that his strength would eventually return. Of course it would. He also knew, however, that it would take awhile. Time was one thing that he did not have on his side. He couldn't waste any of it waiting for strength to return.

That, above all else, made him feel weakest. It drained him further - the prospect of having to fight more and _more_. He hated fighting.

But he loved his father more than anything. He loved his father more than he hated violence. He was loyal to his family.

He had to save his father. As Bakura had said: the future was not set in stone.

Ryou gritted his teeth, willing away the vision that he had had. The vision that had mapped out every action that they had taken thus far.

"You're quieter than your other half," Marik said. The suddenness of hearing his voice jarred Ryou from his thoughts, and his head snapped up quickly. Too quickly. The motion made his head throb in pain, and he groaned under his breath.

Marik's lips quirked. "And infinitely more patient."

"We are two halves of a whole. I take many of his opposites."

The dark spirit chuckled, a low rumbling that made the hair on Ryou's neck stand on end. "I realize this, little one."

'Little One'? Now Ryou could feel his hackles raise. He didn't take well to patronizing.

"Relax, mortal," Marik said, obviously catching Ryou's sudden tenseness, "I'm only teasing."

Ryou raised an eyebrow. He bit his tongue, though, deciding that being rude, regardless of what the spirit had done on the past, would not get either of them anywhere. Malik seemed to trust Marik enough. Ryou could be satisfied with that.

"You worry for his safety," Marik commented smoothly, bringing one knee up so that he could rest his elbow atop it. His cold eyes were half-lidded in vague amusement.

Ryou frowned, glancing away from the spirit's gaze. "I don't trust you."

"I couldn't tell you of a single creature that does."

Marik levelled that cool gaze back up to Ryou, the smile fading into an expression of scrutiny. "However," he drawled, "I fail to see how this conversation is going to get us anywhere."

Ryou blinked. "What?"

The spirit inclined his head upwards, letting the chilly rain fall directly onto his face. His eyes closed for a moment, before he turned them back onto Ryou. "We need to find lodgings."

"I...I really don't think I can move."

Marik seemed to almost crumple, his eyes going dark with obvious irritation. It was almost like Ryou's words had flicked a switch in the spirit's mind.

He sighed, the air hissing out from between clenched teeth. "Neither can I, it seems. For now."

"You expected differently?" Ryou could remember, very clearly, the moment when the strength had drained from both him and Bakura. With Shadow Magic, it was often an instantaneous thing. It wasn't always the gradual loss of energy. Oftentimes it just allowed you to sap energy in a sort of rush of adrenaline. Once the adrenaline wore off, you were completely spent.

The moment they'd landed in the alley, Ryou had felt it. It had been agonizing, like having part of him ripped away. Bakura, who had been in control at the time, was eventually knocked out completely. He'd managed for a little while, after they'd gotten to the alley, but had eventually given in to the lack of strength. Ryou couldn't recall a time where that had happened before.

Frankly, it'd scared him a bit. He'd checked on his other half, just to make sure. Bakura was fine, he was recovering, but they were both extremely weak.

Essentially, he had ripped out a piece of his soul to use so much magic when it had already been so suppressed. Well, it was more like a piece of his life force. Shadow Magic came at a price. It wasn't like this modern day sorcery. There was a balance to it. You had to pay to use the service.

The only problem with that was that you weren't allowed to stop using the service, once you started.

Shadow Magic was very literally designed to kill its user. It knew nothing else but how to serve and destroy. That was its most fundamental nature.

Marik's head suddenly shot up. Ryou glanced over, having caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. The spirit's eyes narrowed, and his entire body went tense like a cat's, coiled to spring.

"What is it?" Ryou murmured in quiet query, glancing to each side. The alley was still empty.

Marik's voice was equally as soft, but with a sense of dangerousness lacing the edges of each word. "The flow of magic just changed. It was considerable enough for me to feel it, even in this state."

Ryou didn't need to hear another word. "Someone's coming after us. One of _them_."

"Not necessarily one of _his_ followers, but absolutely a user of this," Marik's nose wrinkled slightly, "modern magic."

He obviously had a very superior view to the wizards' magic. Ryou didn't wholly blame him. Their experience with this new magic had not been a very pleasant one.

"Have you found your second wind, young one?" Marik asked, slowly pulling himself up into a stumbling stand. He picked up his bag carefully, as if any quick movement would have Death Eaters springing them.

Ryou slowly followed suit, realizing just how shaky he was. "Not really."

"You're going to need one very soon."

This time, even Ryou could feel the pulse of energy as the Shadows crackled and recoiled. Someone was coming. Apparating, he thought they called it.

Someone knew where they were.

"Someone has tracked us," Marik snarled under his breath. Without giving even a second for reply, he grabbed Ryou's wrist in an iron vice and whirled them into the opposite direction, breaking out into a dead run towards the streets.

Ryou yelped at having his arm twisted so violently, but otherwise did not complain. He focused himself on trying to keep his weak legs pumping, keep him moving. If he fell, he'd be taking them both down rather effectively.

There was a voice from the alley, and as they turned the corner onto the street, Ryou was positive that someone was, indeed, after them. He didn't dare chance a glance back.

They ran for a long time. Marik kept the lead, on legs and strength that Ryou couldn't fathom him having after using so much power. He must've been running, literally, on his last reserves.

After having turned many corners, Marik finally slowed to a very tense walk. He glanced backwards. Ryou still refused to.

"We're no longer being followed."

"How did they find us?" Ryou gasped, feeling his legs threatening to give way on him.

Marik gave him a quick once over. "I don't know." His eyes perused the street, before locking onto a cheap looking inn across the street.

"We should be fine there."

Ryou nodded exhaustedly, his entire body aching like someone had stuffed rocks into every part of him. Every step was a nightmare.

He decided that he absolutely loathed the feeling, and that trying something like this again was completely out of the question.

They made their way across the street and into the inn. A young man was inside, sitting behind the desk, smoking a cigarette. He quickly snuffed it into the tray when he saw them, and put on his most winning smile.

"How may I help the two o' you?"

He faltered, slightly, when he saw how they looked. What with Ryou's stark white hair and Marik's untameable mane, it was a wonder that he managed to school his expression as quickly as he did.

Plus, they had to look absolutely bedraggled and awful. Still, the young man didn't look disgusted or anything. He just threw them an empathetic smile.

"Hard getting used to the wild weather of England, eh?" he asked, laughing. "What can I do for you?"

Ryou, knowing that Marik wasn't really too much of a people person, answered. "It's just the constant rain, really. We got caught a few blocks back. Couldn't find a good inn."

The man's smile widened at the prospect of tired, rumpled customers that had had trouble with prior places. "Well, our prices are real good, they are." Ryou thought that he could detect a hint of a Scottish accent on him. "How many nights?"

Ryou glanced at Marik, and the expression on his face was telltale enough. "Just one," Ryou said.

"Okay. How about the two o' you head up to your rooms, there, and I'll bring the bill up to you in a lil' while. Give you some time to get cleaned up an' everything. Sound good?"

Ryou smiled and nodded gratefully. "Yes, that would be wonderful."

Marik snorted slightly, but Ryou didn't really know what for.

The young man lifted a key off of the board and slid it over the counter. "There you go. Room twenty-three."

Ryou accepted the key and gave the young man another quick thank you before leading the way down the hallway. His bag was feeling awfully heavy. He wasn't sure if it was weighed down with rain or if it was just him.

The inn was small, and smelled a tad musty. Ryou glanced around. Monotone wallpaper and carpet on the floor. The carpet was a little ripped up and dirty, from so many people having come in out of the rain. It probably happened often, which explained the young man's casual behaviour. He most likely saw bedraggled tourists as a common occurrence.

When they finally found the door, Ryou slipped the key into the hole and turned, opening the door into their room.

"Who do you think that was, back there?" Ryou asked, letting Marik in and closing the door behind the both of them. He flipped the lock, giving it a double-check.

Marik dropped his wet back onto the floor beside the bed nearest to the door. "I...am not sure. The read I got on our follower was not entirely malicious, but not entirely friendly either."

"So we were right to get out of there."

"Perhaps," Marik answered vaguely, "or perhaps not."

Ryou decided, a little chagrined, that Marik had certainly begun a trend of giving not-answers to his questions.

He tossed his bag onto the bed, zipping it open to grab whatever was dry. In it, he found only a t-shirt and a pair of pants. They were sort of damp, but not as soaked as the rest of his things. He began pulling things out, one by one, and laying them onto the floor. Though he was utterly drained and fried and ready to just collapse, he had to think ahead.

Marik just took the duffel, turned it upside down, and dumped everything onto the floor in a heap. He then picked up the driest two things he could find and strode towards the bathroom with them.

Ryou watched, mouth agape. He hadn't realized Marik was so...messy.

That, or he was just too tired to worry about being meticulous. Ryou had a neat freak streak a mile wide, and knew that he wouldn't get any rest if he did what Marik had just done.

Marik returned from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of light pants and a white t-shirt. He went to the bed without a word, ripped the covers back, and slipped into the bed soundlessly.

Ryou knew that the dark spirit was even more drained than he was. That, he supposed, meant that he'd be waiting for the clerk.

He sighed, blowing all of the air from his lungs and then inhaling slowly and deeply. Being safe, he realized, had given him a bit of a last-minute energy boost. He hoped that it would last long enough for the clerk to arrive.

He stood, picking up the clothes, and went to change in the bathroom.

"Be prepared."

He stopped, hand on the doorknob, and glanced over to Marik's bed in surprise. The spirit was rolled over, staring at him with those intense, dark eyes.

Ryou blinked, not understanding. "Be...?"

"Be prepared," Marik cut him off. "Be prepared for anything, once this battle comes to a head."

Ryou's eyes darkened, and he turned his head away. His grip on the doorknob tightened, turning his knuckles white.

"Yes. I know," he said after a moment, and then stepped into the bathroom.

As it turned out, the clerk arrived a few minutes after Ryou was changed. He was holding a small tray with the bill on it. The young man had been right - the stay would be pretty cheap. Ryou had had enough cash to pay him at the door, and the young man had been very appreciative of that. Apparently, he'd been a little worried that they weren't going to pay.

Ryou would have tipped him extra for the kindness he'd shown, but to his regret, he knew that they couldn't give money out like that. Not when they didn't know what they would be needing.

Ryou tried to calm himself, as he slipped into his bed, snuggling down into the first sense of safety and warmth he'd experienced in a long, long while.

Still, Marik's words just wouldn't leave his mind. They spun around endlessly, as if they were on repeat.

_Be prepared for anything, once this battle comes to a head._

He would have to be, he decided. He had to be prepared for whatever they were met with when they confronted Voldemort.

His stomach dropped slightly, and he couldn't stop a few tears from slipping down his face.

He knew exactly what they would face.

_I'm sorry, dad._

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange kept herself bowed to the ground as she delivered the news to her Lord.

The two foreign magic users had escaped. They had escaped, and none of the Death Eaters stationed at the school had been successful in tracking them. The Headmaster had gone off grounds and Apparated...somewhere, but he had returned not long after in a foul mood. He hadn't been able to catch them. They had escaped somewhere, and they had been so weak that their magic wasn't traceable. It was hard enough to trace anyways.

She had chanced a few glances up to her Dark Lord. His face had been kept masterfully blank. It terrified her. She knew not what to expect.

"I see," he said, after she had finished explaining.

"I am sorry, My Dark Lord," she whispered, bowing even lower.

He waved a hand. "It wasn't your doing, Bellatrix. Do not apologize for the shortcomings of those that were placed at Hogwarts."

"Shall I execute them, my Lord?"

"No. They may be at fault, but their only fault was underestimating the Shadow Magicians. They should have been better warned of their magic."

"I should have told them more, my Lord."

"Perhaps," he drawled, touching his precious Nagini with a loving hand, "however, the past cannot be undone."

Bellatrix stood, but kept her head bowed. She was upset, upset that they had failed her Lord. That all of his followers had failed him.

He approached her, and the silent movement made her tense. One long, white finger came to her chin, forcing her to look up into those shining, red eyes. She let out a breath of excitement. Anticipation.

"Do not fret, my dear pet. They will come to us."

Her lips curled into a smile. They would.

A man, white-haired and crumpled onto the floor, held back a whimper. Instead, he glared up at the two magicians that were keeping him captive.

"Don't touch my son," he warned. He knew he couldn't do anything, but he couldn't just sit by as they planned to harm his only child.

Bellatrix's head snapped to the side, and her wand was pointed out in an instant. "Silence, fool!"

Voldemort's lips raised in a tooth-baring smile of his own. "I did warn them."

She glanced his way, curious and querying at the same time. "Warn them of what, my Lord?"

The man jerked violently in his bindings. "I swear to you, if you lay a hand on him, I'll-"

_"Crucio!"_

Pain exploded in his body, and it knocked the air right out of him. When the pain ended, he fell to the floor, wheezing in agony. It felt like static was dancing along his entire body.

Voldemort turned, breezing back up to his chair. He sat slowly, rubbing his chin in thought. His ruby gaze pierced into the man's being. He shuddered in fear.

Voldemort's smile only widened at the reaction. "Bellatrix?" he asked in that smooth, lilting tone.

"Yes, My Lord?"

Voldemort examined the weak man for a moment, eyes glimmering with violent pleasure. His hand moved to stroke the head of the snake that rested on the arm of his chair. His eyes fell to the creature, who was staring up at him in eager anticipation. His eyes flickered back up to the man.

"Do what you want to me," he begged, "just leave my son! Please! I beg of you!"

The Dark Lord' eyes flashed decisively. His smile turned almost friendly.

"Kill him."

Bellatrix screamed in ecstasy, casting the brilliant green spell. She danced, waving her wand like a token of victory.

_I'm sorry, Ryou._

And then there was nothing, save for the resonating laughter and the quiet sound of a body slumping lifelessly to the ground.

End Chapter

I really can't tell you all how sorry I am that the chapter took so long to write. I'm just trying so hard to get it _RIGHT_, since we're so close to the end.

This chapter was emotional for me, and though I hated its turnout, I did try to convey that emotion in this chapter. Both nothing and everything happened in this chapter at once. I know that may be confusing, but I'm sure you have an idea of what I mean by that. .

Thanks for reading thus far. I really do appreciate the kind words and constructive criticism that has been given by all of you.

Out-Of-Control-Authoress


	26. What You Seek

Wow. I...wow. I just can't believe that there's only three chapters left (counting the epilogue). It's...kind of surreal.

This story has been such a journey for me. I know it seems to be a little early to get all nostalgic and choked up over this, but I can't really help myself. It's just been a great ride. All of you (all two-hundred something subscribers and how many readers/reviewers) are just so awesome. You guys really helped me and pushed improvement that I wouldn't have seen otherwise.

Thank you. Every one of you guys!

So, yeah. Twenty-nine chapter total. Funny fact: this story was only supposed to be eighteen chapters long with the original plot. I tweaked it juuuuust a tad. XD

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter.

Chapter Twenty-Six

What You Seek

When Ryou woke up that morning, it was Malik lying in the other bed. Sometime overnight, he and Marik must have switched out.

He hadn't realized it at first, because Malik's bed head looked almost as insane as Marik's did most of the time. It was only when he had turned over, revealing light purple irises and an expression of extreme irritation, that Ryou knew who it was.

"Bakura was _hitting_ me in the middle of the night," the young man reported, sounding decidedly aggravated.

Ryou sort of blanked for a moment. "He...was hitting you?"

"Hitting me."

"...Hitting you," Ryou repeated again, just to confirm it.

Malik nodded resolutely, glaring at Ryou as if he were trying to glare _through_ him and straight at Bakura.

"Why?" Ryou ventured after much staring. Malik let out a huff of anger.

"He was mad that I let Marik take control."

That sort of explained it. "Ah," Ryou said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Malik sat up slowly, stretching his aching muscles. His entire body was heavy from the expenditure of energy from the day before.

_"I hit him once," _the spirit reported, sounding groggy and grumpy and not the least bit apologetic for his fairly silly behaviour.

_- Regardless, -_ Ryou answered, _- don't you think that was sort of childish? -_

_"No. He should have known better than to let Marik in control when I wasn't capable of dealing with the situation."_

_- He's not going to do anything. - _

Bakura was silent for a moment, before he responded in a very quiet, very serious voice. _"We can't ever be absolutely sure of that."_

Ryou sighed, rubbing his temples. Squabbling amongst themselves and refusing to trust one another was just going to make an awful situation worse. They were about to launch a very abrupt, very stupid attack on the Malfoy Manor where Voldemort was keeping Ryou's father captive. They didn't have time for inner-group issues.

Ryou's attention needed to be elsewhere, like figuring out how he could save his father.

_"It could be too late,"_ Bakura said softly, his voice full of a sort of empathy that Ryou didn't often hear in it. He knew that Bakura understood losing a family member. He'd lost loved ones too.

Ryou's voice was resolute: _- I have to try. I won't accept 'maybe too late' as an answer. -_

_"I know, Ryou. I'm just-"_

_- Preparing me. - _he interrupted, recalling Marik's same words from the previous night, _- I know. -_

Ryou stretched his arms, kicking the blankets off of himself. Malik was out of bed also. He'd knelt down beside his pile of clothes and began organizing them.

"Jeez," the blonde grumbled, "why did he have to just dump everything?"

Ryou smiled slightly, standing up. He adjusted his shirt and went over to his clothes, grabbing his black slacks from the previous night and a fresh shirt.

Malik watched Ryou pick up the pants with a vague air of disdain. "How did you get those dry so fast?"

Ryou blinked, glanced at the pants, and then back at Malik. "I don't know," he said, "I laid them out?"

Malik looked about to make a very snippy retort to that, but a shadow passed over his face instead. He straightened, before sitting gingerly down onto his bed, fingers interlaced in a common expression of thought.

"We need to find the Malfoy Manor," Malik said suddenly, his violent eyes flat as he raised his head so that he could look at Ryou. "And we need to find it today. Tonight. It's got to be soon."

Ryou watched as Malik glanced out the foggy window, eyes narrowed. He looked so grave and drawn, Ryou realized. Something that, Ryou knew, he looked quite similarly to. Or worse. Ryou probably looked a whole lot worse.

"Are you in pain?" Ryou asked suddenly. Malik glanced his way, as if to ask where that had come from. Ryou explained: "I saw how carefully you've been moving this morning. And I feel worse for wear, so I assumed you'd feel similarly."

"I feel like complete crap," Malik answered, his voice rough. Well, at least he was being honest. It was something that, had Ryou been dealing with Marik, wouldn't have happened in a hundred years.

A hundred years? A little snidely, Ryou figured that he was giving the dark spirit just a little too much credit.

_"Tch, and you'd be right to think so."_

"But-" Malik effectively cut off any reply Ryou could have made to Bakura "-whether or not I feel sucky doesn't matter. We have to go. Now."

Ryou nodded mutely. He understood Malik's urgency. He, too, was extremely panicked. He knew that time was the only thing keeping his father alive, at that point. Time and luck.

He turned around, clothes swinging over his arm, and went into the bathroom to change. He heard rustling outside. Malik was getting ready, too. Apparently he really didn't want to waste time.

Ryou glanced in the mirror. He had been right - he looked absolutely awful. His cheeks were thin, and there were bags under his eyes that might as well have been drawn on by some of Malik's kohl. His entire face looked drawn, like he'd been through some kind of famine.

He huffed aloud, pulling his shirt over his head. He hated seeing the results of what they had been through, this past while. It made it all the more real. Too real.

As he made to button up the white shirt, he briefly marvelled over every scar dotting his body. Bakura had blamed himself for most of these. Ryou could remember every one of his scars, whether they were created by himself or had been done by Bakura.

Ryou knew, however, that many of these scars _were not his_.

Bakura was decidedly silent, and seemed unusually occupied with other things. Ryou smiled sadly. He expected no less. Bakura was tight-lipped about his lifetime. The spirit's mortal life had not been something pleasant to look back upon.

Ryou would know. Bakura had let him relive every moment beside him. It had been a nightmare of which Ryou couldn't even properly imagine. He still wondered if some of the events had been conjured up in nightmares after the fact, because he couldn't believe that any man alive could have had the capacity to commit such crimes.

For example, he would never understand the value behind burning thousands of corpses and using them to create the cold monstrosities that were the Millennium Items. Almost as if in response, the cool metal of the Millennium Ring rubbed against Ryou's chest.

He let a finger trail down the smooth surface of the Item. He couldn't imagine how it must have been to live in a prison, for so many millennia, created from the dead remains of his brethren. Of his family. Of every person that he had come to love.

Ryou could remember times where Bakura had said things in passing, things like asking Ryou if it was possible to feel one's own mother's corpse, mixed with gold.

He thought that he could always sense a part of his mother within the Millennium Puzzle. And the Millennium Eye. It was part of the reason why, after he'd stolen it, kept the eye so close; and why he had coveted the Puzzle so deeply.

Ryou shivered. He simply could not imagine it.

He finished buttoning the clean shirt, and resumed getting himself dressed.

Once Ryou was finished, he stepped out into the room. Malik was also dressed, and had packed both of their bags. He had his over one shoulder and was standing impatiently near the door.

Ryou sighed, took his bag from Malik's outstretched hand, and reached for the door. "You're losing control of yourself, Malik," Ryou warned. Malik barely spared Ryou a glance.

"It happens. You know, when you're about to die and all."

Ryou winced. It was true. He really couldn't be blaming Malik for acting upset when he was about to face...that future.

Malik ran a hand down his face, looking older and more tired than Ryou had ever seen him. "Sorry. I'm just getting a little loopy."

"I don't blame you," Ryou said emphatically, drawing Malik's gaze up to his own. Malik had to know that Ryou wasn't going to be upset at him for any testy behaviour. It just wasn't fair to him.

Malik jerked on the strap over his shoulder. "Let's just go, okay?"

Ryou complied, knowing that any further discussion was apt to cause a mental breakdown. That, of all things, was not what any of them needed. Ryou knew that if Malik broke down, he would follow almost immediately after.

After all, Bakura and Malik were the only pillars of strength he had left. If he counted himself, then he'd be lying. Ryou knew that his personal strength had vanished the moment that Voldemort had brought his father into everything.

So what would happen if that future came to be?

Ryou clenched his teeth and steeled himself as best as he could. He needed to focus. Priorities - they had to find the Malfoy Manor and actually confront the Death Eaters before they could manage anything else.

He pulled the door open, letting Malik exit first, and then closed it behind them.

As the two of them walked down the hallway, Ryou couldn't help but feel a sense of loss, as if they had just abandoned the last safe place they would be in for a long, long time.

They made the rest of their journey in relative silence. Neither of them needed to really say where they were going. Both of them knew.

They were going back to the place where it all started. Back to that rundown pub. Back to that magical street, hidden behind the pub's walls.

Ryou knew what they were going to do. They were going to seek someone out, anyone, and either ask or torture for information. Part of him shivered at the prospect of Bakura being allowed to torture someone, as he himself had admitted to being quite practiced in the field. Bakura had done many terrible things in his human lifetime. Something, Bakura had commented, that was seeming to come in handy while they were trapped in this whole mess.

Ryou had had no rebuke or even response for that. It was completely true.

The streets were only beginning to whirl into life. It was early - probably somewhere between five and six. Ryou wasn't sure. They hadn't been paying much attention. All he knew was that it was very early and he was very, very tired.

Bakura, surprisingly enough, was just as quiet as Malik. Ryou knew that there were parts of his vision that Bakura had shielded away. He also knew that Bakura being this quiet was both unusual and very disturbing. He didn't like it. Not a bit.

Bakura nudged a tendril of reassurance in Ryou's direction, but Ryou blocked it. Nothing Bakura did, at this point, was going to make him feel better.

The tendril vanished.

Ryou scanned the growing crowd of people. No one suspicious seemed to be nearby. Well, no one in a black, hooded cloak pointing a wooden wand in their direction, at least.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Malik doing the exact same thing - searching for threats.

A shiver ran up Ryou's spine, and he realized that they'd just turned onto the street where it'd all begun. He could see the familiar, rickety sign creaking from its place.

_The Leaky Cauldron_

The obviousness of it was almost laughable - but it was probably only funny to those who were looking for that kind of discrepancy from the normal world.

Both of their walking slowed as they reached the doorway. Malik and Ryou's eyes locked for a brief second, and agreement passed between them. This was it. This was, almost literally, the threshold from which they could not return.

Not without Ryou's father. Not without both Ryou and Malik's lives.

They just wouldn't turn back any other way.

Ryou glanced back out to the street. No one seemed to be paying them much attention. A couple of teenagers about to enter an abandoned pub would draw at least some odd stares, wouldn't it?

"It's probably charmed," Malik murmured, his fingers sliding over the cool door handle, "so that normal people won't think to notice it."

Both of them paused, before Malik thrust the door open. It slammed against the inside wall, jolting the old man that was sitting behind the bar. He looked exactly the same as he had before, just as haggard and lifeless as the first time.

"Don't go breakin' my place," he grumbled in their direction, not sounding particularly enthusiastic about the warning.

Ryou closed the door gently behind them, as to not stir any actual animosity from the old man.

The man finally seemed to take them in, his eyes wandering over their faces for a long moment. His eyes widened, then, and he leaned forward with a spark of life in him that hadn't been there before.

"I've seen you two before," he said, rubbing his chin with wrinkled fingers, "you went into Diagon Alley a while back. Got chased out by Death Eaters, if I reckon right."

"Your reckoning was right," Malik responded dryly, not bothering to spare the man a glance as he made his way to the back room. Their destination was so close that they could just about reach out and touch it.

The man slid off of his stool, hobbling to the edge of the bar. "Now, then, don't you boys go repeatin' anything." He grabbed onto Ryou's wrist, stopping his movement. "S'obvious that you're not wanted in Diagon Alley, so just turn right back around and go home!"

Ryou gently, but firmly, unhooked the man's grasp on his wrist. "I'm sorry," he said softly, raising his eyes to the old bartender's, "but we have no other choice."

The man backed away, leaning tiredly against the bar. "Bloody 'ell," he breathed, "what did they _do_ to the two o' you?"

Unlike Ryou's gentle handling, Malik's gaze was sharp. "Enough to bring us back here. Can we go through?"

It was barely a question. Ryou knew that Malik was at the point where he would incapacitate the man in a second. He would force his way through the instant that the man uttered the word 'no'. Malik was, just as Ryou was, that desperate.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and all that.

Muted by surprise at Malik's harshness, the man nodded and gestured slowly to the door. Malik didn't give any word of thanks, he only ripped the door open and made his way inside.

"I'm sorry," Ryou murmured as he passed the older man, before following Malik through the door.

The rubble shook as Malik all but kicked his way across it. Ryou scrambled to follow, moving over it with more success than his friend. Once Malik was safely on the other side, both of them stopped to stare at the empty, ruined street before them.

Another shiver ran up and down Ryou's spine. He gripped his arms to his chest, feeling colder and more afraid than he had in a long, long time.

Their footsteps echoed along the dreary street. Ryou could see how tense Malik was, and knew that his body was just as coiled to spring.

_"I want control. I'm better equipped to deal with Death Eaters."_

Ryou could hardly disagree.

_"And better equipped to deal with Malik when he's this out of control,"_ his dark added, almost as if it were an afterthought. Ryou glanced Malik's way, to the hardness in his friend's eyes. To the darkness that lurked in every movement that he made.

With a quiet sigh, Ryou consented. _- Okay, - _he answered.

The Ring lit up, the flash of light dulled by the cloth of Ryou's shirt. Bakura opened his eyes, surveying the area as a way to get a grip on his surroundings. It was quite different to watch through Ryou's eyes, than to actually be the one in control.

Malik had stopped walking, and was staring at Bakura with a chilliness to his gaze. Bakura returned the favour with a flat stare.

"What?" the spirit demanded. Malik snorted, opted not to respond, and kept walking.

Bakura had no trouble catching up and falling into step with the angry blonde. "Look, Malik," he said lowly, keeping his gaze ahead, "you need to get a grip. You're losing it totally, and I don't care how justified the behaviour is. Cooler heads always prevail, and we can't do this if mine is the only one."

Malik didn't stop walking. He didn't even act as though he'd heard a word that Bakura had said.

"Malik," Bakura warned, not liking his comrade's behaviour at all.

Malik did not seem to register this fact, and continued to ignore the Spirit of the Millennium Ring.

Bakura, sick of putting up with the silent treatment, grabbed Malik by the arm and spun him so that he was forced to face him.

"Now," he hissed, voice dangerous and soft and lilting. A predator's voice. "Listen to me, Malik. Right here, right now, we-"

"Hey! Stop right there!"

Both of them turned, to see a Death Eater making his way towards them. The man reached for his wand, holding it in a way that reminded Bakura of a modern day policeman approaching a criminal.

"That didn't take long," Bakura murmured under his breath, using all of his self-control to keep himself from smiling that typical (and according to Ryou, decidedly evil) smile of his.

Malik, taking no notice of Bakura's newfound good cheer, wrenched his arm out of Bakura's grasp, as the spirit's attention was elsewhere.

The man stopped a few metres away from them, holding his wand out. "What's your business here, muggles?"

This man was obviously not very intelligent - to even refer to a non-magic human as a non-magic human was practically begging for suspicion.

Bakura glanced at Malik. The blonde male's expression bespoke solely the urge to murder any and all things. He sighed. It seemed that he would be doing the acting this time around.

"We're lost," he mumbled, looking appropriately abashed, "sorry. The old man in the pub didn't tell us this place was off-limits."

The man didn't move, only pointed back the way they'd come. "Then leave. This isn't...safe."

Bakura cocked his head, doing his best Ryou impression. "Why not?"

_- I'm not innocent to the point of stupidity, yami. - _Ryou grumbled through their link, a little insulted by Bakura's 'impression'.

Bakura only snickered in response, but carefully kept his exterior as calm as possible. After all - any normal human would have deluded themselves into thinking that they were somewhere perfectly normal. Normal humans had the wonderful ability to delude themselves into explaining magic with some kind of their logic. It was fascinating, really, how stupid they could make themselves.

The man shifted, obviously uncomfortable with having to deal with...what did they call it? "Muggles"?

"It's a restricted area," the man stumbled over his words, barely getting them out into intelligible sentences. "Construction, an' all. Just get out of here. Restricted."

Bakura blinked, before giving his biggest, brightest, most innocent and childlike smile. "You're not very high up in Voldemort's army, are you?"

The man immediately went stock-still. Bakura could see his eyes widen behind the skull mask. The man gaped for a moment, before thrusting his wand in their direction. "H-How dare you address the Dark Lord by his name! Who are you?"

"We're wasting time," Malik snapped, shoving forwards. His fingers were already at the deck holster on his leg, and he flipped open the snap with a single quick gesture. Bakura could see the snag of magic as Malik "felt" for the right card.

"Put your wand down!" The man shouted, assuming that that was what the young male was reaching for.

Bakura's grin broadened and became decidedly more evil. Not giving Malik enough chance to get a card (because honestly, he was now mad at him, and was not going to give him the satisfaction of subduing their prey), Bakura whipped one of his favourite knives from his pocket and leapt at the man. The man, having the typical reaction time of someone with little reflex training, didn't even get half the words out for his spell before Bakura landed on him.

Malik was standing behind him, arms crossed, looking unimpressed and not a little irritated.

"The hell are you-"

Bakura cut the man's shout off by sliding the side of the blade along the Death Eater's neck. "Now, now," he purred, putting the sharp edge back to the man's neck with a simple flick of the wrist, "let's not go overdramatizing the situation. We're only going to torture you for information."

"If you think that-"

Bakura pressed the knife ever-so-slightly, grinning as he felt the man's heartbeat increase beneath him. "I'm what many humans of this world refer to as a 'psychopath'. I promise you, if you refuse to comply, I will _slit your throat_."

The man gulped in a frantic breath, craning his neck away from the cool metal of the knife. Bakura's smile widened further, and he glanced back to Malik. "Bindings, if you please?"

Malik sighed, dropping his bag to the ground and zipping it open. He rummaged around for a moment, before pulling out a long, thin rope. Wrapping it around an arm, he approached both Bakura and the Death Eater. Bakura, to make Malik's job a little easier, hauled the man into a sitting position by the hair on his scalp.

The man let out a cry of pain, one that dimmed instantly when Bakura threateningly gave the knife another soft push against his jugular.

"Wh-wh-what kind of wizards _are_ you?" the man questioned fearfully, his entire body shaking along with his voice.

"Ones that don't feel like wasting our power on you," Bakura said shortly. "Especially when we can subdue you by...ah..._muggle_ means, and still succeed."

Malik stood up from behind the man, clapping his hands together slightly, as if removing dirt. "Done," he said.

Bakura smiled, and gestured towards Malik. Malik, understanding the meaning, grabbed the man by his tied hands and forced him up onto his feet. The man groaned.

"How about we take this into that shop over there?" Malik suggested, gesticulating to the empty building as he went back to retrieve his bag. "It's less conspicuous than torturing him out here. Might muffle his screaming at least a _little_ bit." A slow, toothy smile flitted across his face.

Bakura snorted. It seemed that the prospect of torture was lifting the young Egyptian's funk. A little bit, at least. How cute.

Keeping the knife to the man's throat as a method of deterrence from any funny stuff, the two of them led the Death Eater into the abandoned shop. Bakura opened the door, and Malik kicked the man to the dusty floor. The black-clad wizard scrambled to his feet as best as he could (his hands _were_ tied behind his back) and turned around to face them.

Bakura twirled the knife in his fingers. Malik had gone to find a chair to tie him to.

The spirit leaned down, face only inches from the other man's mask. He smiled gently, like a friend would for another friend. "Now, where did you put that wand?" the man only squeaked in response. "I _saw_ you hide it in that cloak of yours. I _want it_."

Not waiting for a response, Bakura dug his hand into the man's cloak. The search was a quick success, and he drew the long, thin piece of wood from the cloak with a sense of sick pleasure that he hadn't gotten in a long time.

Bakura reached down, pulling the mask from the Death Eater's face. The cloak fell back, revealing dusty brown hair. The man was young to middle aged. Bakura would guess around late twenties, early thirties. His eyes were a sharp, dark blue. They were filled, much to Bakura's amusement, with utter terror. He had a strong jaw, but it was barely noticeable will all of the man's shaking.

The spirit decided that it would almost be a little_ too_ cruel to nicely ask the man's name.

Malik reappeared a second later, and forced the man up and down onto the chair, arms still tied, but held around the back of the wooden seat.

Just for extra measure, Bakura opted that they tie his legs to the chair's legs. He had admitted, out loud for Malik, that he wanted it for dramatic effect.

Honestly, he was just trying to freak the Death Eater out as much as possible. The man wasn't high enough ranking to have known who they were on sight, which meant that he was likely a fairly new recruit. New recruits were always the easiest to break.

Bakura was going to enjoy this.

He could vaguely hear the slamming of a door as Ryou decided that this was the point where he would opt out of their undertakings. Ryou could, after all, see within Bakura's mind how violent the spirit was willing to become to get their information.

It wasn't something he could watch happen.

Bakura slid his finger along the length of the wood's shaft, his smile gentle. "You wizards are so dependent upon your magic," he said. "It would be a pity if you were unable to partake in it."

"We spent quite a time unable to use our power, while your magic fought to suppress ours," Bakura continued. He held the wand up, as if he were examining it. "It would be only fair then," he took either end of the wand, moved it down to eyelevel with the Death Eater, and snapped it in half, "that we be allowed to do the same to you wizards."

The man's face drained of colour as Bakura dropped the two useless halves to the ground. They hit the wooden floor with a resounding clatter. The wizard's shoulders hunched, as if all hope had been lost.

It really had, Bakura had to admit. For the wizard, at least.

Bakura's eyes sharpened to flint. It was time to get down to business.

"Have you ever been to Malfoy Manor?"

The man was silent for a moment, head bowing as he processed the abrupt question. "...No," he mumbled finally.

Bakura used the flat side of his knife to tilt the man's chin up, so that he had to look Bakura in the eye. "Tell me the truth."

The man jerked his chin back down, knocking the knife from his face.

Bakura shifted the knife to his other hand, and reached out. Taking firm hold of the man's chin, he forced his head up. "Tell. Me. The. Truth."

The wizard gritted his teeth, staring hard into Bakura's eyes. "I _am_."

Bakura sighed, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Malik..." he said slowly, glancing to the blonde, who had been silent thus far.

Malik blinked for a second, before seeming to understand what Bakura was suggesting. "I don't know if it will work," he said. "I'm still pretty drained."

"As am I," Bakura responded a little testily. He hated not getting his way with an interrogation. "But we have little choice if we want to make this quick."

Malik seemed to chew over that for a moment, before finally pulling the Millennium Rod from his pocket. He twirled it in his fingers for a second.

"You sure," he asked the man, "that you don't want to talk?"

The wizard said nothing, only thinned his lips in an obvious gesture of being tight-lipped.

Malik sighed, shrugging casually. "Well, don't say I didn't give you the option." That said, he pointed his Millennium Rod to the man's forehead. "Millennium Rod, give me control!"

The Rod flashed with bright, yellow light. The Death Eater shrunk back in obvious horror, trying to turn away. It was no use, however. Malik's mind control was as powerful as anything.

The man slowly turned towards the glowing Millennium Item. He blinked, all light fading from his eyes. The expressions on his face washed away, leaving only blankness. Pure, unchangeable obedience. Such was the power of the Millennium Rod.

The wizard's eyes turned up to the Eye of Horus shining on Malik's forehead. "Yes...Master...?" the man rasped.

Malik's lips quirked in wry humour. "Been a while since I pulled this one," he murmured, more to himself than either Bakura or the Death Eater.

The man sat obediently, patiently awaiting his Master's order.

Malik's eyes went cold, something that Bakura found familiar from the time of Battle City. The snowstorm iciness of Malik's gaze was something that Bakura had noticed to be missing after Yami Malik, Marik, was sealed away.

It interested Bakura, to so suddenly see it now.

"Slave," Malik ordered, but there was a softness to his voice that contrasted the ice in his eyes, "tell me the location of the Malfoy Manor."

"Due East," the slave answered immediately. "The muggle way to reach it is to take a bus out of London. Two hours' ride. The directions are...difficult to remember. Master, do you wish me to write it for you?"

Malik glanced at Bakura, who shrugged and pulled his knife out again. The spirit cut the bindings quickly, freeing the wizard's hands and legs.

"Do we have any pen and paper?" Malik asked Bakura.

Bakura zipped open his own bag. "I may," he said. He rummaged through it for a few moments, but came up with nothing.

Malik cut his gaze to the wizard sitting lifelessly before them. "Search the shop for some method of writing." He knew that wizards wrote with different things than modern day humans. Enchanted quills, he thought. Quills and parchment.

Very medieval.

The slave nodded eagerly, trotting off to fulfill his master's wishes.

Bakura turned fully to Malik, who was standing with his shoulders sagging. The young man was staring down at the pulsating Item in his hand.

This wouldn't have bothered Bakura even in the slightest - after all, Malik had always had a bit of a flair for the overdramatic - had it not been for the expression of absolute agony on his face.

"Malik...are you...okay?" Bakura asked slowly, taking a careful step in Malik's direction.

Malik didn't react for a moment, before letting out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Fine, fine. I'm just..." his voice trailed off, and when he spoke again, he sounded choked, "...doing what I've always done best."

The expression on his face drained away, and his face went completely blank, as if he were under the mind control instead. He turned away from Bakura, so that the spirit couldn't see his face.

Ryou's presence resurfaced. _- Malik...- _he murmured in soft surprise.

_"Leave him be," _Bakura answered.

No further conversation was possible, as the wizard came hurrying back with the quill, ink, and parchment. He set all three onto the seat of the chair, and then hurried to the other side of the store to carry over a table to write on.

"Hurry up," Malik sneered at his temporary subordinate, falling easily into the role of an intimidating master. He turned back to where Bakura could see his face. All the spirit could see, however, was hardness.

The man all but dropped the table down, the resounding slam of wood-on-floor enough to make Bakura wince and spare a glance out to the street. He just hoped that Diagon Alley remained deserted. Any further disturbance would just be wasted time, as far as he was concerned.

Malik hissed a warning at the wizard's accident, and the man immediately began stumbling apologies. He sat down, dipping the quill into the ink he'd set onto the table, and began quickly writing down instructions.

"Well, he's high enough up that he knows the location of the Malfoy Manor," Bakura commented, crossing his arms.

Malik cast a glance his way, before snorting softly. "Yeah. Lucky us."

"He's got more free will than any of the drones you used to create. Any particular reason why?"

"I can alter the level to which the person is controlled," Malik explained. "I can make them completely mindless, as I used to do, or make them obedient, but still with basic personality traits. I can also just plant small seeds of impulse in one's mind. The last one is the most subtle, but the second is easily the best for the sake of being inconspicuous. Outsiders would just assume that I'm the leader of something, not that I was the puppeteer."

"Ah," Bakura said, understanding dawning. He'd wondered about that. "But before, you preferred simplicity over subtlety."

"Yeah."

Bakura nodded again, but didn't continue on. He knew that he was walking on a mine field, addressing Malik's past endeavours as the leader of the Rare Hunters.

"Write faster," Malik ordered, not bothering to even look at the wizard. The man immediately began to scribble even quicker onto the parchment.

Bakura arched an eyebrow, just as Malik turned back to him. "How's Ryou?" the blonde queried.

"Fine," he answered. "Worried."

"About?"

"You," Bakura answered, absently playing with his knife. His eyes slid to where Malik was standing. "Everything. When isn't Ryou worrying?"

A vague smile crossed Malik's face. "True, I suppose."

The scratching of the quill stopped, and the wizard jumped out of his seat to hold the parchment out to Malik. "Here, Master!" He exclaimed, bowing his head.

Malik accepted the sheet, scanned it quickly, and nodded to Bakura. "It's good. I recognize a few street names, I think, so he's not bullshitting us."

"I don't think he could if he wanted to," Bakura murmured, twirling the knife. He walked around to behind the man, who didn't seem to notice or care that Bakura's vicious smile had changed to a solemn frown.

Malik averted his eyes, holding the Item out to the man. "Release," he said quietly.

The light re-entered the wizard's eyes, and he blinked around in confusion. "I-I wrote-" he stared at the parchment in Malik's hands. "No!" He made to run and snatch the paper away.

Bakura was too quick. He took a fistful of the man's hair and pulled him back against his chest, holding him there, with his head back. "We chose to let you die as yourself. I am many things, but I am not so cruel as to strip you of yourself prior to death."

The man's eyes went absolutely huge as he registered exactly what Bakura meant. "W-Wait! I can help you! Please, please, I have a wife at home-"

"Silence," Bakura ordered through his teeth, fist clenching in the man's hair. "You chose this path yourself. You have no one else to blame."

Ryou shut himself into his soul room, putting his hands over his ears and screwing his eyes shut. He ground his teeth together, head bowed.

"Please...please..." the man sobbed, tears streaming down his face. His entire body trembled. The man stumbled where he stood, weak-kneed.

Bakura kept him properly upright, eyes closing as he drew his arm across the man's neck, the knife glinting.

"Please..." the wizard whispered.

Bakura's hand tightened around the handle of the knife. "War gives no room for error. I wish that I were sorry about this."

Bakura pulled his arm back and slit the man's throat.

* * *

A couple hours later, the two found themselves sitting at the back of a mostly-empty bus, driving out past a rural section of London.

Bakura had been silent the entire time. After they'd disposed of the corpse and cleaned up, they had found their bus and were on their way. Bakura, on the bus, had chosen to stare out the window, chin in palm.

Malik could understand what Bakura was probably feeling. Killing, no matter how many times you did it, always seemed to rip out a small part of you when it happened. Unless the killer was a sociopath, which neither Malik nor Bakura actually were, then there were emotional repercussions to such acts.

Malik had killed too. It had been hard every time, and he still regretted every second of it.

Still, they had been riding for nearly two hours in very, very tense silence.

"Bakura," Malik started, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. "I...ah...damn..." he trailed off, not really knowing what words to use.

The Spirit of the Millennium Ring sighed, dropping his arm from its place as a prop. "It's fine, Malik," he said, "it's...just been a long time since I've killed that way."

There was a short pause between them. Malik raised his eyes to Bakura's face.

"It had to be done, though," Malik said, trying to emphasize the fact.

"I know that."

Malik put a hand on the spirit's shoulder. "You said yourself that cooler heads prevail, Bakura. You can't dwell on this."

Sharp eyes snapped to meet Malik's. Malik was very suddenly reminded of how very closely Bakura's eyes resembled blood. Recently spilled blood. "I'm not upsetting myself over killing one mortal, Malik. I only worry for Ryou. I've dirtied his hands again."

Malik guffawed, gaping openly at the spirit. "He has to know that he didn't do it."

"It's difficult to explain," Bakura said, "how Ryou feels about these necessities, when we are in this kind of situation. It's something you may have to address with Ryou personally."

"He feels guilty, right?" Malik guessed.

Bakura propped his chin back up on his arm, angled towards the window again. "Something like that."

"Guilty and responsible?"

"Guilty and partially responsible, perhaps," Bakura answered in clipped tones, "but I reiterate that I can't explain it to you properly."

"He would have reported back to Voldemort," Malik said.

"Yes."

"And he would have prepared them for us."

Bakura snorted. "If you've deluded yourself into thinking that they aren't already preparing for us, then you're an idiot."

Malik frowned. He wasn't stupid. He knew that they would be appropriately ready for them, when they arrived. It was fact, however, that though Voldemort and his Death Eaters could prepare for their attack, they couldn't determine the exact time of it.

Instead of saying this aloud, Malik just crossed his arms and slumped down in his seat.

Malik glanced out the window, to the afternoon sky. "Tonight, huh?" he mused quietly, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes."

Malik started, not having expected a response.

Bakura's eyes were half-lidded, but Malik could see all the hatred and rage swirling in the depths. Just as Malik's had been earlier, Bakura's face was hard and steely, set with a fierce determination.

Either they were going to succeed, or they were going to die doing their damndest. Malik knew, had really always known, that this was what it was going to come down to.

Death.

As Shadow Masters, death was an unavoidable part of their lives. They were doomed to be eternally haunted by Death's shadow. The constant knocking upon Death's door that their magic caused was why so few Shadow Masters existed in the modern day. Few had the strength of mind to constantly face death. Fewer still were strong enough to watch it happen around them as much as Shadow Masters, true Shadow Masters, had to.

Malik knew that, had he been given the choice, he would have chosen to lead a normal life. Shadow Magic was something that he would have preferred to live without.

He also knew that Ryou would probably feel similarly - though he would have preferred to not have the magic but still have become light to Bakura's dark.

Malik sometimes wondered if even Bakura would have preferred to have not come into contact with Shadow Magic.

Malik loathed the very power that now fuelled his entire existence and was the only way that he would survive the mess that he was in now.

How funny.

"What are you thinking about, Malik?"

Malik glanced over, to where Bakura had turned his head to face him full on. The spirit looked intrigued, but not wholly so. It seemed more like he was trying to amuse himself.

"Nothing," Malik answered immediately, but upon Bakura grinning his way as if to say 'I am not convinced', he sighed. "Just...Shadow Magic. I don't know. I'm being unusually introspective and philosophical."

He cast a sardonic smirk Bakura's way. "I guess it just comes with the whole 'about to die' thing."

Bakura obviously did not find the joke funny, and just frowned pensively, turning away from Malik again.

Malik blew out another sigh.

Bakura suddenly reached for the parchment between them, pulling it up in front of his eyes. He read over the scrawled instructions for a second, before dropping it back down beside Malik. "We're almost there."

Malik followed Bakura's gaze outside, where a large expanse of sprawling hill lay out around them. He blinked. Shouldn't there be...?

"The mansion will be hidden by magic," Bakura said, guessing Malik's thoughts by the expression on his face.

Malik blinked, and looked out back at the landscape with new eyes.

"How do we make the vehicle stop us here?" Bakura asked, staring at Malik expectantly. Ryou must have shut himself up, to have not said anything.

Malik grinned at Bakura's lack of knowledge of the modern world. "Like this:"

He reached up and tapped the line that they wanted off. As the bus slowed, both of them tensed. They could feel the magic, the modern magic, slowly coming up and pooling around them.

This was it.

End Chapter

God, that was an awful cliffie. Sorry. Well...not the WORST I've ever given, but still...

You guys must want to just kill me for drawing out the action like this. XD

Oh, and fun fact - I started writing this story at fourteen. :P See? I meant it when I said I was pretty young.

Agh! I can't believe we're getting so close!

I'm going to try to have the next chapter out within the next couple of weeks. Look forward to it!

Thanks for all of the support, you guys. Really.

(sniff sniff)

Review?


	27. Full Tilt

Second-to-last chapter...

I don't really have much to say, this time around. I was really pleased with the positive feedback on last chapter's build-up / minor action. I was very glad to hear that. :)

Thanks everybody for being so supportive through this story's journey!

On a totally random note: It's my BIRTHDAY TODAY! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Full Tilt

This was it.

"Ready?" Bakura asked Malik as they stepped off of the bus. They watched it continue down the street before beginning to walk towards the large expanse of grassy land.

Malik stopped and rolled his head back, closing his eyes for a moment. "As ready as I'll ever be," he answered. His eyes reopened.

Bakura nodded, and gestured for them to continue. "Let's go."

"Do you have any clue where the manor actually is?" Malik demanded as they walked.

"Yes. It's further beyond the tree line, in another clearing beyond here."

Malik seemed to accept the response, and glanced around. "This is too easy. We should have been attacked the moment that bus left."

"If they had wanted to attack us upfront, they wouldn't have spared the mortals on the bus," Bakura replied, not sounding at all affected by the prospect of a busload of innocents dying because of them.

Malik winced, though. "Figured that much, I guess."

"Then why ask stupid questions?"

Malik bit out a growl and turned his head away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

_( We're so close to the ending of our life. )_

Malik scowled. _You're such an optimist. _

But even Marik could tell that the edge in Malik's voice simply wasn't there anymore. The spark had been dulled by the looming prospect of death.

He found it surprisingly worrisome.

"In all likelihood," Bakura continued, beginning to edge them over to the far side of the clearing, off to where there were trees to disguise them, "they intend to wait for _us _to go to _them_. I doubt that..._he _has any intention of letting us fight in a place where we may have advantage. He wants it on his grounds, and under his circumstances."

"Why can't you just say his name?" Malik queried, surprised at Bakura's reluctance.

Bakura's eyebrows drew down. "I feel that there may be a connection between speaking his real name aloud and the presence of either himself or his men."

"It would have happened by now, Bakura."

"We rarely used his name," Bakura pointed out harshly, "and when we did, it was always when a Death Eater was within the vicinity. Trust me on this one, Malik."

"I have no reason to trust you on that one, Bakura," Malik snapped. "You're being a bit paranoid."

"It's tabooed."

"What is?" Malik asked incredulously, eyebrows shooting up with scepticism. "His _name_?"

"We don't know the capabilities of their magic, Malik. Don't underestimate them as they have us."

Malik looked away, knowing that Bakura was right but too stubborn to admit it. He hated it when Bakura saw things ahead of time, when Bakura used that stupid strategist brain of his to get all the right things right. It made him feel like the underdog - him, the one who nearly captured the entire world for himself.

_(I demand credit, as you used a gratuitous amount of my help.)_

Malik ignored the voice. After all, he hadn't wanted Marik to interfere at all.

But then, looking back, the misplaced hatred that had driven him to do the things he had done...he didn't want that again. Further, he no longer wanted the world for himself. Not even the Pharaoh's power. None of that mattered to him.

So why was he mulling over it now?

He sighed. He wasn't sure how much longer his head was going to be able to take this. It was one thing to know that you were going to die. It was entirely another to be there, on the day of your predetermined death, and trying your best not to care. After all, interrupting the timeline was more likely to cause trouble than Malik's death was. Bakura had already come to grips with this. Ryou hadn't, but he was smart enough to know that trying anything, anything at all, would most likely lead to disastrous consequences.

_(Do not forget our deal.)_

_I know._

Marik's deal. Marik hadn't divulged what the actual plan was, had refused to, in fact. It worried Malik to no end, but he had been asked to "trust him". So he did.

But to what end?

It wasn't that Malik was averse to the prospect of his death. As had been stated many times before - death was an inevitable factor of life. Humans were born to die. It was the ending of every life story. There was nothing else.

What had Malik so worked up, however, was the prospect of leaving two of the few people that he cared about to fend for themselves. He didn't want to sound pompous, but it was unlikely that Ryou and Bakura would be able to handle the situation on their own.

It wasn't pompous at all, actually. Two souls in one body couldn't handle an entire war on their own. Without a lot of help, at least.

Malik didn't want to leave such a burden, coupled with the weight of his death, on their shoulders. He couldn't do that to them. Ryou, especially. Bakura could handle it. Ryou probably couldn't.

Perhaps, though, he wasn't giving Ryou enough credit.

"Malik."

The sudden sound of Bakura's voice made him start, and he turned in surprise to the white-haired spirit. Bakura was glaring at him, eyes full of that disdainful superiority that he often donned when facing someone he was unimpressed with. Which was pretty much everybody.

"Focus," the spirit hissed, obviously having noticed that Malik's mind had side-tracked. Malik sighed in frustration. It wasn't that he was all _that_ side-tracked, it was just that he was trying to occupy his mind.

The corners of Bakura's lips - which had been pulled back into a thin, grim line - softened. "I do understand what you feel, Malik."

Malik's mouth popped open in surprise. Of all things that were Bakura, empathy had never registered as one of them. The spirit always had, Malik realized, maintained a certain level of empathy, even when he had been completely insane. Bakura had gone through a lot in his lifetime and after-lifetime. He could identify with just about anyone, if he wanted to.

But death...death was something that Bakura identified with very well. It pervaded his being even into the present day. Bakura was, after all, stuck in a perpetual existence of non-life. He was, technically, dead. All he could be, in his death, was a soul acting as a parasite to a living human, clinging onto the last strands of life that he could grasp to.

It was sad, really. It wasn't "pathetic" sad. It was just sad. Unfortunate.

It made Malik see Bakura in a different light, oftentimes.

"What the _fuck_ are you staring at?"

Or maybe not.

They broke into the small cluster of trees between the first clearing at the mansion. Malik felt his entire body tense. With next-to-zero warning, the second wave of magic hit him like a brick to the face. It was enough to make him stagger back. Bakura made a snorting sound at Malik's brief display of surprise, but Malik could tell that the spirit was just as disoriented as he was.

"Oi," Malik said in a hushed tone, "how close are we _now_?"

Bakura's eyes closed briefly. When they reopened, Malik could all but see the Shadow Magic roiling within the ruby irises. Wait. Not ruby. Blood. They were too dark for ruby.

Bakura's eyes always reminded him of freshly-spilled blood. Blood like what had poured from the throat of the man they had killed.

Malik shuddered for a second, waited to gather himself, and turned his gaze away from the spirit.

"We're closer than I'd thought," Bakura answered finally. Malik glanced back at him. Bakura's eyes were narrowed, slits of dark, vicious red. His hands had curled into hooks, like he was an animal preparing to strike.

Bakura's presence was throwing him off. It was bothering him, like an itch he couldn't scratch.

"Let's go," Bakura said, gesturing for Malik to follow.

Malik did as he was told, but he stopped after a moment and grabbed Bakura's shoulder. He knew what was bothering him. "Are you-?"

"Channelling Shadow Magic through my physical form?" Bakura finished, and he smiled a violent smile filled with pointed, shark-like teeth. "Why yes, I am. It makes me more aggressive, Malik. Take care."

There was no mocking in the last line. There was no room for contention in those words, only warning. Bakura was telling Malik to stay out of his way as much as possible. It probably hadn't been since his insanity that Bakura had channelled this much physical Shadow Energy.

Malik bit the inside of his cheek. Bakura was definitely more desperate than Malik had assumed him to be. For him to channel Shadow Magic that way...to so openly risk Ryou's physical safety...he must have been banking on something going wrong. On both of them dying.

But Bakura knew, as well as Malik did, that Ryou and Bakura would make it out alive. This time, at least.

_I don't have the capability to do that, anymore._

_(Your hate isn't strong enough. It's to be expected.)_

_So how will Ryou deal with that kind of raw, dark energy? _Malik hissed. _Bakura isn't thinking this through._

Marik paused, and when he spoke, his voice was softer than Malik had ever heard it. _(If my guess is correct, and I do believe it is, what waits for Ryou in that mansion will give him more than enough hatred to wield.)_

He had no response for that.

They skirted up the side of the tree line. Malik could see the mansion slowly coming into view, shimmering like a mirage. His guess was that only someone with magical ability could see it at all. He would further bet that it was hidden from wizards, too.

Pity that they weren't wizards.

He kept a healthy distance between himself and Bakura. The physical change was astonishing, really. Bakura's hair was wilder than usual, his eyes wilder still. Those eyes glowed, especially so in the shaded canopy of trees. His entire body was tense like a predator's.

Shadow Magic had a tendency of making a person's primal instincts come out in many ways. Judging by the low, humming growl emanating from Bakura's throat, it was doing its job quite nicely.

It also made the person, although more powerful, a little wild and hard to talk sense into. Malik almost wanted to ask Bakura how, when they needed to communicate, he had thought this was a good idea.

Through the trees, a grand mansion began to emerge. It was familiar, too.

It was familiar enough to make Malik feel that familiar pull of energy, sapping away the Shadows. _He_ was in there. Undoubtedly.

Malik reached his magic out towards the house, intending to probe for the location of Ryou's father.

A hand clapped onto Malik's shoulder. It surprised him, and he made to elbow the offender in the face, but he realized quickly enough that it was Bakura.

Red eyes slid to meet his own. "Don't. If they catch a signal that we're nearby, this entire thing is blown."

"They can sense us...?" Malik breathed. He didn't think it was possible. They had no connection or even comprehension of Shadow Magic until they caught the two of them. How?

"_He_ may be able to, the Snake. I doubt any of the others are talented enough to even sense the difference. It's not a chance I'm willing to take." Bakura's lips pulled back in a wolf-like smile, razor teeth and all. "Let's go."

The two of them slipped through the trees, coming up almost parallel with the mansion. Malik was about to ask what they were going to do next when he felt a more violent pull, and suddenly the two of them were up against the wall of the Malfoy Manor.

Malik slapped Bakura's hand off of him. "Didn't you _just_ say not to use our magic?" he hissed.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "This was necessary, or they would have seen us coming. We can't bother being overly stealthy anymore. It'll last as long as it lasts."

"Nice viewpoint. It's not _your_ ass on the line, here."

Flat stare. "I would do the same if it was."

_No, you wouldn't, _Malik thought darkly, _because you'd never risk Ryou like this._

Bakura pulled something out of his pocket and began a slow walk towards a door. It was on ground level. They were completely out in the open if they were entering such a common area.

"We need to get to the top floor," Bakura said quietly, fiddling with the lock. "We need the child first."

There was a click, and Bakura swung the door open. He glanced inside, before indicating that Malik follow.

Malik would never understand how the Tomb Robber got locked doors open so freaking _fast_.

It was the kitchen entrance. Everything was quiet, empty. Warning bells sounded in Malik's head. This was _wrong_. They should have been attacked on sight.

Unless...unless the wizards didn't actually know that they had arrived.

Malik could only pray that that was it, instead of something more akin to ambush.

Bakura grabbed Malik's shirt and hauled him forwards. One finger to the lips indicated that no more conversation was going to be possible. Communication through a temporary link was out, too. The constant use of their magic would almost definitely alert the snake-bastard to their presence.

They needed the upper hand for as long as they could maintain it.

They slipped through the large kitchen area without so much as a sound. Reaching a door, Bakura pressed himself against it, listening for any kind of sounds.

Malik nudged him in question. The spirit waited for a few more seconds before shaking his head. Nobody was out there as far as he could hear, and he would have heard _breathing_ in the state he was in.

Bakura twisted the doorknob and slid through the small crack. Malik followed shortly after, silently shutting the door behind them.

The main hall. The doorway was wedged between the far wall and a grand staircase.

Why the _hell_, Malik thought, were they in the main hall? It was suicidal.

Bakura glanced his way, sensing the tension, and gave him a long look. It pretty much said to stop getting worried, he knew what he was doing.

However, Malik was quite sure that Bakura did, in fact, _not_ know what he was doing, and was getting them into untested waters. They couldn't take this kind of risk. Bakura should have known that.

The spirit fell into a crouch, edging towards the end of the stairway. He peered around the side. Malik waited, tense, hoping that Bakura would glance back and give the "ok" that no one was around.

Instead, Bakura edged back and reached for the door, shoving Malik in and then closing it himself. Malik barely had chance to protest before Bakura had him shoved back and hiding behind a counter.

"The hell are you doing?" Malik hissed quietly, baring his teeth at the spirit. This was not the time for stupidity.

"There are Death Eaters patrolling out there," Bakura hissed right back. "Do you want to fight them and put us at the centre of attention?"

Malik huffed and looked away. Of course that wasn't what he wanted.

"So they _were _expecting us," Malik murmured, casting a dark glance towards the door. He should have known better than to hope for good luck. Luck often preferred to not be on their side.

"Not necessarily," Bakura answered shortly, grinding his razor teeth together.

Malik was about to retort, but was cut off by the sound of another door, one near to the one they had used, opening. Both of them tensed, prepared to strike down whomever had been misfortunate enough to enter.

They shared a glance, ready to leap up and catch the person off-guard before they could so much as scream.

Much to their luck, however, the other door opened.

"Sissy?" a familiar voice asked, one that sent shivers like pinpricks up Malik's spine. He couldn't miss that voice, even having only heard it a few short times.

"Bellatrix," a surprised voice answered.

Bellatrix Lestrange clicked her tongue audibly. "Sissy, you know that I hate it when you act formal, like that."

"I'm sorry," the other apologized. This voice was also familiar, but not enough that Malik recognized its owner. "I'm just so...so worried for Draco."

Malik tensed. Worried for him?

"The Dark Lord knows that he was tricked by those shadowy magicians," Bellatrix said in that lilting tone of hers. "He feels Draco to be weak of mind, but not permanently so, and nothing that can't be amended."

The second woman's voice was grave. "The Dark Lord is very forgiving."

Malik had to wonder why, just why, did she sound almost bitter at that sentiment. It was almost like she didn't believe her own words.

"Come with me, Sissy," Bellatrix said, and footsteps indicated her movement. "We'll go to Lucius and speak with him."

"Bella, no," the other woman said, "I came to make up some food for Draco."

"You have servants for that, Sissy." Bellatrix Lestrange sounded nothing less than disgusted at the prospect of making food.

"It helps me unwind sometimes, Bella. Please." The woman moved around the counter, and Malik knew that from her vantage point, she would have seen them behind the counter. She had to have.

Bellatrix sniffed. "Fine, Sissy. If you _must_. But remember-"

"-To watch for the sorcerers," the woman finished, "yes. I know."

Bellatrix did not respond, seemingly satisfied. Malik heard her turn on her heel, and then the familiar clicking sound as she left, the door closing behind her. He waited, silent, as her footsteps continued until she was completely out of earshot.

The woman came around the counter in the centre of the kitchen, stepping past them towards the opposite counter.

Malik's eyes widened. Narcissa Malfoy. Draco's mother.

She took a few deep breaths before turning around abruptly, leaning back against the counter for support. "I suppose that I should thank the both of you," she began slowly, "for protecting my son as you had. For taking him away from...all of this." She waved her hand to indicate the room around her.

The two of them rose slowly, and Malik stepped in front of Bakura slightly, sensing Bakura's desire to attack and subdue her.

"He deserves better than this," she continued, sounding like she was near breaking-point. Tears glistened in her eyes. "And I am thankful that you two were so willing to bring him to the other side. To the right side."

"You are the wife and sister of Death Eaters." Bakura's voice was low and dangerous. Malik prepared himself to physically restrain him. It was obvious that this woman was not a threat, if her words were any indication. She had also been good to them, as much as she could be, while they had been in the manor prior to their relocation to Hogwarts.

He felt, somehow, that he could rely on this woman. Not trust her, but rely on her.

"But being the wife and sister of Death Eaters does not make me one." Her voice was stronger this time. It held a ferocity that had been seen a few times within Draco himself. It was obvious where he had taken after.

Bakura lifted his chin, not swayed a bit. "You have given no indicator of rebellion."

"That's because I'm not a rebel."

Malik guffawed. "You can't be _against_ them and not be rebelling."

"Yes, I can." Narcissa's expression softened, and she clasped her hands together tightly. "I live only for my son. For my baby boy. I refuse to watch harm to come to him, and this...monstrosity that my husband and family has mixed him up in is risking him. I cannot allow this to continue for any longer."

"Then why not just take him away?" Bakura demanded, his voice still rough. "Why continue exposing him to this?"

"Because it's too late for me," she murmured, a wry smile on her face. "I have become far too entangled in the strings of their deeds to remove myself."

"Then cut the strings."

Malik's eyes snapped to Bakura's face, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Narcissa looked amused, like an adult smiling on at a child's misconception. "I am sure that the two of you, of all people, understand just how hard it can be to cut strings once tangled."

Her words were like a slap to Bakura's face. Or, at least, he recoiled like they had been. His eyes averted, and a vicious scowl replaced his previous expression of predatory interrogation.

Narcissa squeezed her hands. "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "That was awful of me."

"Don't," Malik said. "Don't apologize. Everyone of this wizard world is past the point of apologizing." He snorted, "and I thought _our_ world was a mess."

Narcissa's wry smile reappeared at that, and she took a step towards them. "I don't blame your bitterness. This world _is_ a mess. It's not something that we can fix anything soon. But I am sorry."

Malik glanced at Bakura, who was still scowling off to the side. There was a distinctly glassy quality to his eyes. It was obvious, to Malik at least, that he was having some sort of conversation or argument with Ryou.

"Why are you here?" Malik asked Narcissa. Things weren't going anywhere, and they didn't have the time to waste with her, discussing things that couldn't be changed.

Narcissa moved forward until she was right in front of them. She raised a hand, but Malik grabbed her wrist. Her sharp eyes snapped to his.

"We _don't _trust you." Malik warned.

"I know."

But the contact was enough, because she just grabbed Bakura while he was distracted. Bakura let out a sharp hiss of rage at the contact, but had no more time to protest. Both of them were silenced by a familiar sensation of the world being tugged away from them, centred at their cores. It was like everything spun around them, and then they were compressed down into nothingness, like being shoved through an impossibly small place.

It was over as quickly as it'd begun, and Malik found himself dropping to his knees onto plush carpet. He grabbed his head, groaning. He absolutely _loathed_ the wizard form of Shadow Transportation.

"Mother?"

Malik's head snapped up, and Narcissa was standing over them. Draco Malfoy was sitting on his bed not too much further away, looking completely flabbergasted.

"M-Malik," he choked out, his voice dropping to a hush, "Ryou?"

Bakura straightened, regaining composure faster than Malik. "Wrong on the second one, mortal."

Draco rolled his eyes, but there was a grin appearing on his face that looked nothing short of ecstasy. "Bakura, then. Whichever one."

Narcissa Malfoy moved to the door to Draco's room, flipping the lock shut. "I know this is only a small comfort, but..."

Draco seemed to suddenly realize that his mother was there, with Malik and Bakura, having helped them get to him. "M-Mother...what did you do?"

She made her way to Draco, kissing his forehead. "Don't worry about it, Draco. This isn't anything for you to worry about." She straightened, turning back to Malik and Bakura, both of whom were standing, waiting. "I have to get back to the kitchen," she said, "before my sister or anyone else realizes that I'm...being rather suspicious."

Malik saw something, then, in her eyes that surprised him. He saw the silent rebellion of a mother scorned, and it took his breath away at its ferocity. With nothing else to say, Malik merely nodded to her.

"We will handle this from here," Bakura said. His voice was still sharp, like the crack of a whip.

Draco seemed to guess what Bakura meant by that and stood up to face his mother. "Please, mother, make yourself scarce."

Narcissa Malfoy nodded and smiled. "I will do what I can, Draco." That said, she closed her eyes and suddenly vanished in a spark of vibrant, white light.

Malik watched the spot she had been in with narrowed eyes . Her last words had certainly contained an interesting double-meaning. Judging from the expression on Bakura's face, he had noticed it too.

Draco was watching the place from where his mother had disappeared also, but with an expression of surprise and worry and love. It was a mixture that Malik hadn't seen on Malfoy's face before. Perhaps, though, that was because he hadn't seen Draco with anyone that he actually _cared_ about.

"We can't get you anywhere safe, Malfoy," Malik said to the young wizard. "You're going to have to risk your butt pretty significantly, this time."

Draco's eyes snapped to Malik's face, and Malik could suddenly see the ferocity there that had been in his mother's eyes not five minutes before.

"I know."

He didn't say anything else. There was no "I want to help", or "I want revenge". It was a simple "I know", because Draco knew that this was the only option that he had left. The only chance for freedom lurked beyond the path that Malik and Bakura had just proffered to him. Draco would be a fool if he didn't take that chance. Malik knew, also, that he wouldn't just drop an opportunity that his mother had so obviously supported. She wouldn't have brought them to him otherwise.

Malfoy's expression softened for a moment. "You know, you...ah...four have done some significant things to us. My mother," he said quietly, eyes filled with a sort of gratitude, "would have never taken that step, if it weren't for you."

"You knew that she didn't support the Death Eaters?" Malik queried in surprise.

"Yes," Draco answered, "I knew. It was obvious enough."

"Pray it wasn't too obvious," Bakura said, "or she'll die quickly."

Draco scowled at Bakura. Malik couldn't help but agree with the young wizard's sentiment. Bakura was making a point of crossing a line that didn't need to be crossed.

Bakura ignored the reactions completely, turning directly to Draco and taking a very intimidating step forwards. "Now," he said, his voice a low murmur, "where _is_ he, mortal?"

Draco Malfoy understood the question instantly. His mouth thinned into a grim line. "I can't say for sure. I've been locked here since they nabbed me back at the school." He glanced around the room that had served as his prison. "My bet would be the meeting room. It's where..._he_ spends all of his time, these days. He'd want Ryou's father to be nearby, should he need..." he trailed off, casting a wary eye in Bakura's direction, "...leverage."

"A good guess is better than nothing," Malik replied, because Bakura didn't look like he was going to say anything. "Do you know how to get there?"

Draco snorted indignantly. "_Please_, remember the fact that this _is_ my house."

"Just checking," Malik answered, grinning viciously, "you grumpy little _bitch_."

"Cut the crap," Bakura snapped, effectively silencing the two young males before any sort of argument could happen. Bakura's eyebrows were drawn down, and he was staring towards the door with a tenseness that he usually reserved for battle.

A shiver ran up the length of Malik's spine.

"Bakura...?" he queried softly, angling himself towards the door.

"Walking by." Bakura's answer was in a low voice, one that brought the reality of their situation home with significant force. Malik's shoulders slumped slightly, part of him wondering if there really was any point to this, anymore.

He was dead anyways, right?

Both Malik and Draco waited for Bakura to un-tense. Once he did, at least to enough of an extent that it was apparent the people had left, they relaxed.

"I can't apparate from this room," Draco warned. "They spelled it so that I can't. It's like what was done with Hogwarts, only on a significantly less powerful scale."

"You can't apparate out of Hogwarts?" Malik asked, but quickly realized that he was off-track. He cleared his throat. "And we can't Shadow Teleport out of here, because the Snake-bastard's got this place absolutely _infested_ with his magical aura."

Draco cursed under his breath, but had known it was coming.

"So we do it the old-fashioned way," Bakura said.

Malik raised an eyebrow. "I'm starting to question this plan entirely. We have only one magic-user that can _use_ said magic, and that's Draco. We're useless, here."

Bakura snorted. "Did you learn nothing when we were with that 'Dumbledore's Army' group? Wizards hardly have the reflexes necessary for proper combat. If we can catch them off-guard, then we're fine."

He certainly had a point. They did have the upper hand when it came to physical prowess. Most of the wizards couldn't even give chase without their brooms as a mode of travel. In their strength of magic, they created a gaping weakness in the most basic form of battle.

Of course, Malik had already known this.

"Well then," the blonde commented, casting Bakura a sidelong glance. "Pass me a knife, and don't say you don't have, like, eighty hidden on your person."

From the expression on Draco's face, he was highly disturbed by the fact that Bakura didn't even feel the need to respond, only pulled out a long, jagged life from somewhere Draco hadn't managed to see. A switchblade was produced shortly after and tossed Malik's way.

"I...have no words," Malfoy said eventually, still gaping openly.

Malik shrugged and concealed the weapons in his clothes. He was perfectly used to Bakura being constantly armed. He'd usually leave the house with one or two knives, and would collect by pilfering throughout the course of his day. Of course, in situations like this one, he was doing a lot more pilfering, and starting out with a lot more. Bakura was probably totally armed to the_ teeth_ with various weapons and other miscellaneous sharp things that _could_ be used as weapons.

"We've wasted enough time," Bakura said. "Let's go. The faster we end this..."

"The faster you get out safe," Malik finished, catching Bakura's sharp gaze.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "'You'? Malik, are you implying that-?"

"There's a high chance that I won't make it out, unless Ryou's clairvoyance decided to punk me."

Malik could see the obvious confusion on Malfoy's face. It took him a moment to realize that the young wizard actually had very little knowledge of their abilities, and probably didn't have a clue about the visions whatsoever. Not the one specifically pertaining to Malik, at least.

"Ryou has visions sometimes," he explained, voicing his thoughts aloud for Draco. "He had one about me, and this event, and my...death."

Draco winced, but steeled his face quickly. "I'll kill whoever does it."

Malik's smile was ghost-like. "I know."

Because that was how it was supposed to happen. Draco would use the same spell that would kill Malik to avenge his death. Draco would murder Bellatrix, and then he, Ryou, and Bakura would escape.

There was a knock on the door.

Both Malik and Bakura tensed, exchanging glances. They slowly moved, Malik behind the door, Bakura on the opposite side behind the wardrobe, hidden from view.

Malfoy glanced at them, waiting until they were hidden.

"Mister Malfoy?"

Draco cleared his throat. "Come in."

The door opened, and in stepped a tall man, dressed in a Death Eater's cloak. Behind him came another man. Both of them were wearing their masks.

"What do you want?" Draco demanded, lounging back on his bed.

"Your father wishes to see you," the shorter of the two said, his voice gravelly and low.

Draco stood, casting a quick but deliberate glance to the door. "Fine," he said.

Malik grinned and shut the door, effectively cutting off the Death Eaters' exit.

* * *

Draco stepped down into the lower level, an entire floor hidden beneath the mansion's basement. He rarely went down there. He found it musty and humid and not a bit to his liking. It was also walled with stone, like where Hogwarts had its Potions classes. He found the entire environment to be altogether dreary and boring.

He avoided it on occasions except for ones like this, when he was summoned down before the Dark Lord. He knew he'd be there - if it was only his father, Lucius Malfoy would have made a personal visit to Draco's quarters.

He glanced at the two silent figures behind him.

"Listen," he began, making sure that no one else was around to hear him speak. "There are three ways to get out of this level. The first is up the stairs, to the basement and then to the ground level doors. That's a bad way to go. They'll catch us. The second is a door leading to a secret stairwell at the end of that hallway," he pointed to a dark corridor a ways away from them. "And the third is to apparate. Will your magic work here?"

"Unlikely," the first cloaked male, Bakura, answered in a voice that sounded completely unlike his own.

Malik, the other cloaked figure, snickered. "This is the most cliché way to sneak up on them."

"Yes," Bakura drawled, a nasty edge to his voice, "and funnily enough, the most effective."

Malik swore at him, under his breath, in Arabic.

"Shut up," Draco snapped, trying to keep his voice quiet, "both of you. If you screw this up-"

"It's going to be screwed up soon enough anyways," Bakura answered shortly. Draco decided not to respond, simply because he knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere with the spirit.

"How close are we?" Malik asked, "this basement level is freaking massive."

"A few corridors away," Draco snarled, obviously getting frustrated with their lack of seriousness over the entire situation. Of anyone, he expected them to take it seriously. Their nonchalance was actually extraordinarily unsettling.

"Don't worry, mortal." Bakura said, guessing Draco's frustrations. He had probably read his body language.

"Young mister Malfoy."

Draco stopped walking, and all three turned to see a cloaked man approach. He slowly drew the hood down, revealing a familiar face to the young wizard. Aged but stern, Goyle's father smiled down at him with a sort of patronizing that did nothing but make Draco's blood boil.

Draco said nothing, only nodded in response.

The man's lips twitched up. "Feeling unusually quiet, my boy?"

"I'm _not your_ boy," Draco snapped in return. Malik and Bakura moved back silently to flank him, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

It didn't work. Goyle's father glanced up, catching their subtle movement, and smiled. "I don't recognize the two of you. New recruits?"

"Not so new as you shouldn't recognize them," Draco snorted, turning tail, "but I suppose that your shortcomings can't be helped."

The friendliness on the man's face flickered, replaced by something decidedly more vicious. It vanished a second later, becoming a sort of sneering curiosity. "Ah. Well, who _are_ you two not-so-new-recruits?"

Bakura wasn't at all interested in humouring him. Instead, he darted forwards and grabbed the man by the arms, slamming him into the wall. The man grunted in surprise. Before he could shout a word, Draco pulled his wand and declared, in a very cold voice:

_"Silencio."_

Whatever the man was about to say was instantly lost as Draco removed his ability to speak. The man made a face of what may have been a silent scream of frustration, before trying to push Bakura off of him. Bakura wouldn't budge, however. Instead, he used the momentum to bring one hand up to the man's head, grabbing a fistful of hair, and slam his head against the wall with enough force to cause a loud, resounding crack as skull connected with stone.

Malfoy winced, but Bakura only watched impassively as the man slid down to the wall, a thin trail of blood following from where skin must've been broken.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to feel any sympathy for the fallen Death Eater. The only thing he _did_ feel, in fact, was that he wished that his father would have been the one lying there, incapacitated.

How was he going to fare facing his own father, after all? He didn't want to chance it. After years of treating the man as an idol, as someone that he wanted to make proud, Draco wasn't sure if he could take the necessary measures against him.

Glancing at the two dark-cloaked comrades beside him, Draco realized that he didn't necessarily have to. If he couldn't, they would make up for it.

It was probably the first time that Draco really felt that had someone that he could depend on. That he could trust to do what he may not be able to.

His thoughts were interrupted by a Death Eater coming around the corner. Seeing the scene, he ran at them, fumbling to retrieve his wand from the folds of his cloak.

Malik, taking the opportunity to be useful, was faster. Malik flipped the switchblade out and open in seconds, using his free hand to rip the cloak off. As he neared the wizard, who was only just producing his wand, Malik threw the cloak at him for distraction.

It worked. The man stopped running, surprised by Malik's move. It was all the time that the young Egyptian needed, and he stabbed the knife straight through the cloak and into the man's gut with one smooth thrust. The man cried out in pain and shock. Not losing a second, Malik pulled the knife out (eliciting another scream from the wounded wizard) and stabbed it higher, feeling bone hit the knife, jarring his movement. Turning both of them into the wall, Malik used the solid surface to thrust the knife into the man all the way to the hilt.

Malik wrenched the knife out of the wizard's body as the man collapsed. His mask had fallen askew in the process. Malik could see the chalk-white skin, and adding that the man was gasping for shallow breaths, he'd probably penetrated a lung, or something.

Disgusted, Malik wrenched his own mask off and let it clatter to the ground beside the man he'd just injured.

Bakura had apparently done the same, letting his cloak fall over the man he'd knocked out.

"Let's move _now_," Draco said. "They'll know there's a problem. I'd wager my life that they heard that scuffle."

"Good wager."

They whirled, to see Malik standing, hands tensed like claws, with Bellatrix Lestrange standing behind him. She had one arm around his chest, as if to embrace him, and the other with her wand pressed against his temple.

Bakura and Draco both froze on the spot.

"Fucking snuck up behind me," Malik cursed in explanation.

"Now, listen very carefully, you cute little traitors," Bellatrix cooed, her voice lilting. "Make one wrong move and I'll end his life here and now."

Bakura hissed under his breath, a snarl that did not go unnoticed by Bellatrix. Her sharp eyes snapped to him in an instant.

"We're going to see the Dark Lord," she ordered, and three more Death Eaters appeared nearby. They, however, kept a healthy distance from the obviously violent Bakura.

Draco, knowing that it was the safest route, replaced his wand into his cloak, hoping that she wouldn't demand that he confiscate it. She was barely paying him any attention, anyways. All the better. He was the most dangerous of the three, really. He was the only one who could access magic.

He wondered if the Dark Lord knew that, yet.

Bellatrix pressed her wand a little harder into Malik's skull. He growled a warning at her, one that she didn't bother to heed.

"Now, let us go to the Dark Lord."

Malfoy found that the indulgent smirk on Bellatrix Lestrange's face held nothing but coldness and cruelty. Suddenly, he had to wonder how he had let himself become so mixed up in a world that was so vindictive.

His stomach sank in anticipation.

Things were not looking good. They weren't looking good at all.

End Chapter

Well...that was certainly action-filled...right? Action isn't always violence (but there was a bit of that, too...) The chapter was long, too. FRUSTRATINGLY SO. I know that Bakura and Malik don't seem to be using much Shadow Magic, but please remember that they don't have a lot of ability to use it due to overexertion AND Voldie's presence at Malfoy Manor. :D

How shall they get out of this one?

Oh, and fun little side note - I've completely finished fleshing out the plot of Blood-Bound (I had the skeleton of the story all planned out, but now I've got the little details all in there too.) Since I actually didn't plan any of this story until about chapter 16 (I mean with a written draft of plot), it explains why there were some rocky update parts. However, Blood-Bound should be smoother sailing...however, I AM going into my final year of high school and my first semester really doesn't look too friendly, so...

We shall see. I won't abandon this story (trilogy?) though. I can promise you that much.

OoCA


	28. Shatter

So...here it is. The final chapter. Well, the final chapter before the epilogue, but you guys get my drift, I'm sure.

Anyways, I really do want to say thank you to everyone who's read and supported this story, and especially those who've helped me grow as a writer and given me the critique and help that I needed. I really appreciate that, more than you'd think. :)

I hope you enjoy this. I worked as hard as I could to make this the best ending that it could be. Please - give me a heads up on how you liked it when you finish.

Love to all of you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Shatter

_"Now, let us go see the Dark Lord."_

From the expressions on Bakura and Draco's faces, they knew the Catch-22 they were caught in. If they attacked to get free, Malik would die then and there. If they went to the Dark Lord, Malik would just die as planned by Fate.

It wasn't between a rock and a hard place, this time. It was between dead and deader.

Malik knew that. Malik knew that he was going to die, just like Bakura and Ryou and Marik did. He maybe hadn't accepted it, but he knew it.

That didn't mean that he was going to go down like a good boy. He was going to kick it fighting or he wasn't going to die at all.

"I'd love to meet His Snakiness and all that," Malik drawled, flexing his fingers, "but I'm on a fairly tight schedule."

Then he turned before she could even react and slammed both hands into her stomach, sending her backwards. He flashed a card out of his deck, his fingers moving lighting quick.

_"Nightmare Steel Cage!" _He shouted, and the Shadows descended down. Bellatrix screamed as they enveloped her, trying to cast a spell but ultimately unable to.

Bakura, catching the incentive, spun on his own and raised his hands. When he pushed them forward, balls of darkness exploded out, hitting the Death Eaters with enough force that Malik could hear their ribs cracking from where he was.

Most of them didn't get up from where they'd fallen, but Draco quickly took to those men with one of his stunning spells.

When the blackness cleared around Bellatrix Lestrange, she was clinging to the bars of a large, spiked cage. Her wand lay on the ground by Malik's feet. She couldn't attack for two turns, after all.

Malik bent down to pick it up, twirling the stick between his fingers. He drew in a long, shaky breath, trying to slow his racing heart. "The problem with letting us adapt to your magic," he said darkly, a smile on his face, "is that our magic is considerably older and fundamentally more powerful than yours is. I'd remember that in the future."

"However," he continued, holding each end of the wand with both hands, "it puts incredible strain on us. I'd rather you not make us do it too much."

Bellatrix snarled at him before shrieking in absolute rage when he snapped her wand into two pieces, dropping it near her cage.

Malik's hands closed over Bellatrix's hands, trapping her in place. "Now," he sneered, voice dangerous, "where is Ryou's father?"

Her snarl turned into a cackle, and she pulled back against Malik's hold. "Where is the old man? Where is he? Well, it depends on what you believe, sweet child!"

Malik's glare faltered. Bakura came up behind them, his footsteps slow and dangerous.

"Draco," the spirit said in a pleasant voice, "silence her."

Draco nodded. _"Silencio."_

Once Bakura was sure that she'd been silenced, he stuck his hand through the cage and grabbed a handful of her hair. Her mouth opened wide as if she were trying to scream. Bakura's face twisted and he pulled her up against the cage, slamming her face into it as hard as he could.

Her face contorted viciously, and she wrenched herself backwards, trying to pull out of their grips.

"Where _is_ he?" Bakura snarled, dark and hateful, dropping her hair to grab her face and force her to look at him. "Show us."

"She can't talk," Draco said, sounding worried and more than a little upset. Though he hated Bellatrix, more than anyone else besides his father or the Dark Lord, he still couldn't stand to see torture. Not like this.

When Bakura pulled back to respond, Draco was shocked by how _dark_ his eyes seemed.

"I know," the spirit responded fiercely. "That's the _point_."

Draco was sick of it. He was sick of the violence and the general _stupidity_ and the constant vie for power. He was just so sick of it all.

So he grabbed Bakura's wrist, preventing him from doing anything further. "Look, if you want to save your father," Bakura didn't bother to correct him on that one, "then you're going to need to stop."

Bakura ripped his wrist from Draco's hold. Malik came up and stood between Bakura and the silent woman's cage.

"He's right," the Egyptian teen said lowly, looking away from Bakura. He didn't want to face that ferocious gaze. More than anyone, he understood why Bakura was lashing out, why he was hurting her the way that he was.

He wanted to get in as many punches as he could before what happened...happened.

"They won't stay stunned forever," Draco warned, indicating the Death Eaters on the ground. Malik's gaze flickered to them, and then back up to Draco's face. Utter seriousness. They were on a timer.

"And she'll only remain in that cage for the relative span of two duelling turns," Malik agreed, eyes snapping to Bellatrix, who had curled up in the centre of the cage and was glaring at them with all of the heat of the burning sun. That glare promised revenge. It promised murder.

Malik knew that she would satisfy that desire. It was already fated.

"He...he may also be with the Dark Lord," Draco said after a moment of silence, feeling entirely uncomfortable with bringing that point up. "I'd imagine that he'd want to keep Ryou's father close."

Malik nodded in response, because Bakura was too seething mad to say anything. Draco definitely caught that, and was casting wary glances in the Spirit's direction.

"The dark energy that he's manifested is festering pretty badly," Malik explained slowly and quietly to the blonde wizard beside him after taking a few steps away from Bakura, who had made to circle around the cage like a hungry predator.

"What does that mean?" Draco queried just as quietly.

"...Makes him_ really _emotionally unbalanced, usually expressed through extreme aggression. Don't piss him off. I don't think he's in any sorts to keep you alive."

"That's..." Draco trailed off, not sure how to respond to that. "...really wonderful."

Malik snorted a laugh. "I'd disagree. He's not the nicest murderer."

"There are _nice_ murderers?" Draco's tone was a hundred percent sarcastic, and he eyed Malik with a look that said 'really, now?'.

Malik turned, declining to respond, and inclined his head in the direction of the corridor ahead. "Lead the way, Draco. You know this place better than we do."

Draco nodded, sensing the mood, and did as he was asked. He led the way.

They would search the prisoners' quarters first. Ryou's father would undoubtedly be the most guarded hostage, as Bakura and Malik had the highest danger rate to break him out. Even before the Death Eaters had suspected Bakura and Malik's mutiny, they had known that the father was a risk factor.

They disgusted him. All of them.

It disgusted him even more that he had, once upon a time, been one of them. He clenched his fist. Not this time. This time, Draco was going to do things right.

He was going to prove his father wrong, and spit in the face of everything that he'd been born to know. He would reject the footsteps he'd been ordered to follow in. He would not take that path. That was not what he wanted.

Draco's steps slowed.

Malik stopped beside him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I want you two...three...to promise me one thing," the young wizard murmured, bowing his head.

Malik's lips thinned. "And what would that be?"

"I...I want you to spare my father." When Draco looked up, he could see the surprise on Malik's face. When he looked to Bakura' he could see similar surprise lurking in his red, red eyes. Draco inhaled sharply, and continued.

"I know that he's a monster," he said, "and I know that he doesn't _deserve_ to live. But...I just have this feeling that I could lose my mother, will all the sneaking around that she's doing, and...and I don't know how ready I am to enter a world alone in that way." Draco looked up again, steeling himself. "It's a lot to ask of you both, because it could cause more trouble than it's worth, but I'd still like if you'd _try_. Try to keep him alive, because regardless of how much of a bloody monster he is, he's still my father."

Malik opened his mouth, as if to respond, but shut it again. His brow furrowed, and he seemed to put his words together carefully, when he spoke next.

"You've...put a lot of thought into this?"

"Not really," Draco admitted, laughing slightly. "I just...have this feeling that I want him alive. I want him to suffer, and to learn as I did. I think...I think my dad can be salvaged. Maybe not much, and maybe I'm wrong entirely, but I still think that I need to try. If anything, I owe him that."

"You owe him nothing," Bakura said quietly, and when the other two looked up, they could see a vague air of Ryou's pain within his expression. Ryou, mourning Draco's plea, because he knew what it was like to think that one had lost a father.

"Maybe not," Draco agreed.

"But you still want us to try to spare him," Malik finished, crossing his arms and looking away, glaring at nothing in particular.

Draco nodded slowly. "Yes."

Malik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I..." his eyes darted to Bakura for a brief moment, "..._we_ can't guarantee anything, Draco. I'm sure you know that."

"I do."

"If he gets in our way or threatens the life of a comrade, I will not hesitate to end him," Bakura warned. Draco saw the sincerity. He knew that Bakura was neither joking nor bluffing.

Draco's expression remained neutral. "Then I'll live with those consequences."

"You won't have any other choice," the spirit responded sharply, snorting in indignation at Draco's sentimentality.

"I know," the blonde agreed.

No more words were needed, so Draco kept walking, and the journey went on.

"How much further?" Malik asked, in a low voice, after a few minutes of silent travel.

"The chambers for prisoners..." Draco glanced at them warily. "You've been there before. Granted, the corpse pile has gotten larger since your _last_ visit."

Bakura's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Lovely," he all but snarled.

Draco couldn't help but agree. He didn't support that choice at all. To kill those wizards in the first place was enough, but to just leave them to rot instead of burying them...it was like some kind of cruel, sick joke.

He glanced back over his shoulder, down the hallway where _that woman_ was still trapped. Waiting. He knew that she was going to make _damn_ sure to exact revenge on Malik for that stunt that he'd pulled.

Draco wasn't aware of just how right he actually was, on that count.

The corridor curved, and a distinctly foul odour seemed to waft into the air. Draco scrunched up his nose, knowing that there wasn't much to be done, but disgusted nonetheless. One glance at the other two and he knew they were thinking along similar lines of revulsion.

None of them spoke as they passed the cell of corpses. There really weren't any words to describe the utter repugnance of it. The sight was awful. The smell was unbearable.

_Avenge us, avenge us, avenge us..._

The echoing words - expressed through their wide, glassy, dead eyes - were almost audible. It was enough to make Malik feel utterly shaken up.

"I hope they've found peace."

Draco whirled, surprised to be hearing Ryou's soft voice coming from Bakura's mouth. Once the words were out, Bakura shook his head and scowled.

"Does that happen a lot?" Draco queried, slowing to a stop.

"Keep going," Bakura urged, and Draco complied. "And only when one of us experiences overwhelmingly strong emotions does that transpire. It is not a common occurrence."

"Ah," Draco answered somewhat throatily, feeling partially guilty that Ryou was feeling so strongly about something like that, something that had been such an unthought-of of part of Draco's life for so long.

They passed through an entrance and down another, darker corridor. At the end of this one was a door.

"That was ours," Malik commented as they approached.

Draco stopped in front of it, eyes flickering to the inside of the holding cell. "It's occupied now," he said, "by a man who was causing trouble in the other holding areas. Your father, if he is in captivity, will be in this cell."

"Not any of the others?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I was at the other holding area this morning. Your father was not there."

"And what if they moved him?" Bakura pressed harshly, not wanting to leave any option unchecked.

The young man shook his head again. "No. That one has much easier access for people like you two. They would never keep him there."

Bakura stepped forwards, leaning down in front of the lock. "Then let's see."

It only took him seconds to pick the lock, and the door swung open. Malik grabbed it before it could make any significant noise.

But when they stepped in, there was only one person there.

"Ollivander," Draco breathed, taking in the man's sickly appearance with an air of dismay.

Malik was suddenly hit with an awful sinking feeling. Ryou's father wasn't there. This trip had been a waste of time.

Ryou's father was probably...

Malik clenched his hands into fists. It wasn't "probably", anymore. It was almost guaranteed, and he hated that that was the truth.

The old man cracked on eye open. "Ah. Draco Malfoy." His voice was rough and hoarse, almost impossible to hear.

"Damn it," Bakura hissed, and Draco was startled by the spirit turning and slamming his bare fist into the stone wall.

"I'm sorry," Draco said emphatically. He had wished so much that Ryou's father would be there, that they could find him and escape quickly and easily.

He should have known that things just didn't come easily. Not when you were working against the evil.

"I knew you'd come here," the old man continued, "I had a feeling that you were more mutinous than you led them to believe."

Bakura grabbed Draco's arm. When Draco looked his way, there was a level of pain and frustration on his face. "Let's go. He's not here."

Malik shifted. "Should we be breaking this guy out?"

"No."

All eyes swivelled to the old man that was chained there.

Bakura tugged on the arm he was holding. "He said no. Let's _go_, damn it."

He did not have time to waste. None of them did.

"He'll only be a burden," the spirit continued. "Leave him."

"I'll be fine," the old man said with a wink, "I've had a long life anyways."

Draco turned away, back towards the door.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly to Ollivander.

Bakura shook the blood off of his split fist and pulled Draco out the door. Malik followed shortly after, silently, and closed the door behind them.

"Well, then." Bakura's voice was edged with danger and loathing. "It would be rude of us to keep them waiting. They've been _so _patient with us."

"They guessed that we'd come here," Malik snarled. "They knew. They must have moved Ryou's dad."

Bakura grabbed hold of the both of them without warning. "I'm not wasting any more time."

Draco had to stop himself from shouting in surprise as blackness shot up around them. It felt like apparating, once the corridor had vanished completely. However, this sort of apparating felt more dangerous, almost scary. The moment that the darkness had appeared, Draco had felt suddenly small. Draco hated feeling small.

_"Just stay in contact with me," _Bakura's voice drifted across the blackness. It sounded disembodied, as if it weren't actually coming from the person who had his arm in a vice-like grip.

Another hand, this one Malik's, came to grab his other arm. _"Stay calm and you'll be fine,"_ Malik assured him.

Draco stared into the shadows as they flew through the endless nothingness. Something darted across the shadows, as if behind a curtain, and a feminine shriek echoed from somewhere far away.

_"Close your eyes," _Bakura ordered. _"You don't want to see something that may be inclined to steal your soul."_

Draco obeyed, not too keen on the whole soul-stealing idea.

_"We're almost there."_

It felt as if they were moving upwards, like they had been underwater and were finally moving to break the surface. The shadows grew thicker, enough that Draco thought that he could actually feel them swirling around him.

There was an explosion of light across his closed eyelids.

The shadows began to clear, and when Draco opened his eyes, he was horrified to realize their exact location. They were in a very large, high-ceilinged room. Not just any room, though. They were in the Dark Lord's personal quarters, standing opposite to the Dark Lord himself.

Who was smiling, or leering, rather, in their direction. He was seated in his chair, hands folded in his lap. He looked calm, expectant. That unnerved Draco more than anything.

On each side, Bellatrix and Draco's father stood. Bellatrix seemed cat-like, prowling with an expression of utter hate on her face. A long gash of red lay across her forehead, and her hair had somehow become more dishevelled and wild than usual.

Draco's father, contrarily, seemed as pressed and calm and friendly as he always did. He was wearing the typical Death Eater garb, but he still exuded a distinctly regal air.

"Welcome," the Dark Lord greeted, flashing a cruel, white smile. "We've been expecting you."

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Malik spat out.

"Where is his father?" Bakura demanded over Malik's words, shark-teeth flashing in the torchlight of the room.

Voldemort's smile only grew. "Don't be so eager, spirit. He is right here, do not fret."

With a wave of his hand, another chair appeared out of nothing. It was like a blanket, drawn to recreate the scenery behind the chair, had been thrown off.

Voldemort's smile broadened further, displaying his perfect yet repulsive white-toothed smile.

Draco nearly gagged at what he saw when that spell was removed and the chair - and its occupant - were revealed.

Ryou's father was tied down, body limp, head back and eyes rolled so that only whites showed. The man's mouth was open, blood and drool dried on his lips.

But the worst of it was the fact that the man was quite obviously _dead_.

And Bakura fell to his knees, his soul forced back by Ryou's. Red eyes turned to brown. Agony ripped across his face, and Draco could already see tracks of tears down his cheeks.

He glanced away, feeling sick to his stomach at what was displayed before them.

"You _fucking_ bastards," Malik snarled, fists shaking in complete, unabated rage.

"How could you?"

Ryou's whispered, shaky voice was the loudest, most painful thing that Draco had heard in his entire life.

"Leverage is designed for the sole purpose of keeping servants in line," Voldemort drawled, that superior smile still on his face. "When the servant disobeys, the leverage is disposed of."

"You were _told _not to be naughty," Bellatrix sneered.

Voldemort stood. "I should have known that you were too foolish to obey. I am pained to think that I have _wasted _so much of my time on such a _useless_ resource of power."

"That's bullshit," Malik said, "and you know it."

Voldemort cocked an eyebrow, clasping his hands together. "How so?"

"You've put research into our magic. You have every intention of trying to pull the single most _idiotic_ stunt possible, using our power." Malik's face contorted into a very grim smirk, eyes hardening. "You have no clue what you're getting into."

"I find your childishness amusing," Voldemort replied, lips pulling back.

Malik snorted. He glanced at Ryou. He was in shock. There was no doubt about it. He couldn't help him, though. He needed to keep Voldemort and his lackeys busy.

Was it suicidal to just piss them off until they killed him?

"Draco."

The young wizard looked up into the faux-concerned face of his father.

"Draco, I know that you've been misguided by these...vermin," the man sneered at them as if they were beneath him. Malik sneered right back.

"However," he continued in a lilting voice, a politician's voice, "you can amend for this. Just come back to us. Come back to your mother and I, Draco. Come to where-"

"I don't belong with you," Draco interrupted coldly. He fisted a hand, glaring down at his white knuckles. "I won't keep up this act. I refuse to keep pretending that you...that all of you have any semblance of righteousness. Your side is nothing but a monstrosity, father."

"Draco, please-"

"Shut up," he snarled. "I'm sick if listening to you. You're repulsive."

Draco's father finally lost it. "You ungrateful child!" He shouted. "How _dare_ you disrespect your family! You rival against your own flesh and blood! Disgraceful!"

"The only disgraceful thing is you," Malik said. Lucius's furious gaze snapped to him. Malik bit out an icy laugh.

"Everything that you stand for, father, is more disgraceful than my betrayal," Draco added.

"I am ashamed that you are my son!" Lucius roared.

"I am ashamed of myself, too!" Draco roared right back. "I am ashamed that I let you walk all over me, all of my life. I am ashamed that I never took a stand until now!"

"Scum!" Bellatrix cawed, expression aghast in fury. "I'll kill you!"

Those three words were enough to pull Ryou right out of his stupor. Without a second's warning, Ryou completely snapped.

Shadows ripped into existence, streaking towards Bellatrix. She screamed as they made contact, slamming her backwards and into a wall.

Draco gaped at the young, white-haired teen. His eyes were whirlpools of swirling brown and angry red. His hands were extended outwards, fingers hooked like claws. On his face, he wore the most terrifying expression of hatred that Draco had ever seen.

Voldemort raised his wand outwards. _"Crucio!" _He shouted at Ryou. The spell sped towards him, but whatever power the boy was utilising made him _fast_. Ryou dodged away, the spell careening into the wall behind them and vanishing.

Ryou dashed forwards, every intention of stabbing the Dark Lord with one of the weapons on his person.

Voldemort vanished in a wisp of shadow and reappeared further away.

"Come, child," he said, "do you think you can kill me so easily?"

A group of five Death Eaters burst into the room, running around to circle the three enemies.

"Bellatrix, Lucius."

Both turned, to where Voldemort stood.

"Take care of them for me," Voldemort commanded, raising a hand into the air. His body began to fade into gray shadow again before he vanished altogether.

Ryou threw the knife at the place where he'd been, but the object only clattered to the ground, having cut through nothing but dead air.

"Get them!" Bellatrix screeched.

_"Stupefy!"_ Draco shouted at a Death Eater, hitting the man right on and knocking him to the ground.

Bellatrix spun her wand around in the air, laughing and screeching in psychotic glee.

Lucius made for his son, wand out.

Ryou dashed towards his father's body, narrowly avoiding spells that were cast at him. He grabbed onto his father's cold, clammy skin. Tears sprung up again.

"My monsters will bury you," he promised the corpse of his father, "they will take you away from here."

And his father's body shimmered before vanishing altogether.

"How sentimental," Bellatrix sneered, taking deliberately slow steps towards Ryou.

Ryou stood just as slowly, and when he raised his head, his eyes were nothing but red.

"There will be no sentiment to be had for _your_ corpse," Bakura said. Not wasting a moment, he ran at her, knife in hand.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ She cried, and Bakura's knife was ripped from his hand. _"Stupefy!" _

Bakura raised his arms to block the spell, but it hit him and sent him careening into the middle of the floor. He hit the ground hard, rolling. Coughing, he tried to pull himself up.

Draco's eyes widened in shock, but a spell cast by his father diverted his attention. Draco had already taken out three of the five Death Eaters. His father was next.

_"Bombarda!" _Draco shouted, and the explosion knocked his father to the ground. Malik took care of the rest, jumping to his knees and using the moment to grab Lucius by the head, pull him up, and slam his head back down into the stone floor.

The crack was deafening. Draco winced.

But at least his father was out of commission.

Malik's eyes flicked up to meet his in a quick apology before he jumped back into disarming the Death Eaters.

Bakura was still struggling to get to his feet.

Bellatrix extended her arm towards him, wand out. "Now, you will die for your insolence," she said.

"Hey!"

Bellatrix's wild eyes snapped to Malik, who had grabbed her attention with his call. The Death Eaters that weren't incapacitated stopped to stare.

"Quite the evil leader you have there," Malik goaded, pulling Bellatrix's attention away from the injured Bakura. "Does he always just leave you to finish his dirty work?"

"Silence!" Bellatrix screeched at him, waving her wand-arm at him. "Do not speak of my Lord in such a way!"

"Malik..." Bakura groaned, too quiet to be heard, "what the hell are you trying to...prove...?"

Malik snorted at Bellatrix. "Really? What kind of Dark Lord can't even finish off a couple of kids? Can't he handle it, or is your Lord all bark and no _bite_?"

That was the final straw for Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You little vermin," she whispered, "I'll show you not to take the Dark Lord's name in vain!" Her voice had gone from a hissing danger to a screech in seconds, and she extended her wand arm out to him.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

It hit him dead on.

All were silent as his body flew backwards, slamming hard into the ground a few feet back.

"MALIK!" Ryou's voice ripped from Bakura's throat.

Dead.

Dead.

Malik was...

They hadn't been able to stop it.

Amidst the silence, Bellatrix Lestrange began to cackle, arms raised above her head in victory.

"No..." Malfoy's hoarse plea was audible, even from their distance.

Kill. Murder. She had to _die_.

It had to be a lie. It had to be. Malik couldn't be _gone_. There was no way.

"Good riddance," one Death Eater snarled.

Malfoy spun on the man.

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ Draco roared, voice raw with seething, boiling hatred. The spell exploded from his wand, smashing into the man's body with so much force that he could _hear _the bones breaking from the force of his spell.

The man collapsed dead. Dead like Malik.

Hands were suddenly on Draco, and he was pushed forwards from behind. He hit the ground beside Malik's body, those violet eyes wide and lifeless.

Bakura landed beside them, grabbing both Draco and Malik's body.

"Sissy!" Bellatrix screamed, "Sissy, what are you doing?"

Narcissa's voice, clear as a bell, rang from behind them. "Hurry!" She cried.

Draco closed his eyes. No. Not his mother. Not her, too.

Shadows exploded around them, and Draco was pulled backwards into oblivion.

* * *

Malik woke in a dark chamber.

"I see that fate has overcome you as it so desired, Malik-_pretty_." The voice spoke the last word with an air of mockery that didn't go unnoticed.

Malik looked up, into the cold, violent eyes of his doppelganger.

"I guess so," Malik answered, and even though his answer was quiet, his voice echoed over the walls like he'd shouted the words at the top of his lungs.

Marik smirked. "It was foolish to think otherwise."

"I know that."

The smirk faltered, flickering into an expression of seriousness that Marik so rarely wore. He leaned back against the wall, staring down at Malik. Malik didn't move from his place sitting on the ground. He felt much more comfortable not moving.

"You have to pick one, you know."

Malik blinked and glanced up at his other half, not understanding. What did he have to pick? What choices did he have left? He was dying, wasn't he?

"Not quite," Marik answered his thoughts with obvious nonchalance. "A door, Malik. You have to pick a door." The spirit glanced to the wall behind him.

Malik turned around, and there behind him were two doors. Both made of iron, they looked entirely out of place in the stone room that they were in.

"Why..." Malik asked slowly, "don't they have handles?"

"The handle will come with your choice," Marik answered.

"How much time do I have?"

"Time is relative," Marik answered shortly. "In here, you have all the time in the world."

Malik chuckled darkly. "Well. I guess that lightens the load a bit."

"Hardly."

Malik went quiet, staring at those two doors. Suddenly, they seemed very ominous. He was going to have to make some...kind of choice?

"What kind of choice am I making here, Marik?" Malik queried softly. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer. The coil of dread in his stomach was telling him that his suspicions were right.

Marik's voice was cool. Matter-of-fact. He was relaying only the facts. Nothing more, nothing less. "You will choose your fate."

His suspicions had most definitely been right.

"I'm choosing...my fate." Malik said, slowly chewing over each word very carefully.

Marik didn't look like he'd just told Malik that he was deciding on what happened with his life (or non-life, since he was pretty sure that he was kind of dead). He looked more like he'd just told Malik that his shirt was, in fact, white. Or something like how the weather outside was wet, or that the room they were in was sort of chilly.

"Yes," Marik agreed after a moment, staring at Malik like he was an idiot. "Your _fate_."

His fate.

But what kind of choice in fate did a dead man have, anyways? What kind of sick joke was this?

"You will choose whether you live or die."

Marik's words, in that dark room, were chilly enough to freeze. It wasn't like they were intended in any kind of hateful way, they just sounded...cold to hear.

Malik almost wanted to shiver.

Marik moved silently beside Malik. "The first door," the dark entity said, "leads to the end of your road. You will cease to exist as you are meant to by fate. This event shall lead to His resurrection and attack on this wizard's world. I cannot tell you anything further than that."

Malik nodded slowly. He already knew that. He'd already been told of this future, of this outcome that Ryou had foreseen.

"The second leads to an unknown fate. His resurrection will still happen, but differently. The Fates won't utter a whisper of your second choice."

"And in the second, I somehow come back." Malik finished, staring at that second door. It led to a fate that couldn't be predicted? He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"Yes. In the second fate, you survive."

The reality of that hit hard. Malik could _choose_ to survive and go on into an unknown fate. He could live, but into uncharted territory. Bakura had said that in Ryou's vision, the two of them managed to survive the entire ordeal.

Was Malik willing to take away the guarantee of their survival for a chance at life himself? Was he so selfish?

"It is not selfish to wish to live," Marik said, his voice sounding monotonous and bored. "It is merely human nature. Your nature."

Malik's eyes slid to meet Marik's. "You won't tell me how, will you?"

Marik's smile was infuriating. It was the smile of someone that had every intention of keeping a secret, no matter how much the other person wanted to know.

No matter how important it was that Malik should know it.

"No. I cannot influence this decision. This decision is _yours_ to make."

Malik snorted derisively. He was almost positive that that was a lie. Marik was just being difficult. He probably was doing it for fun.

The deadpan look that Marik fixed him with, having obviously heard Malik's errant thought, pretty much said 'stop being a child, you fool'. The expression unnerved him, derailing his silly suspicions.

"_Why_ can't you tell me, then?" Malik demanded. If it was obvious that Marik was being serious, then Malik wanted to know the reason for it. With such dire stakes at hand, Malik didn't really want to make his decision lightly.

"Because," the wild-haired male answered, "though I am a part of you, I am _not_ you. Therefore, I cannot make a decision that _you_ have to make."

Funnily enough, that had made perfect sense. Malik wasn't sure if he should have been worried about that fact.

Sensing Marik's imminent frustration, Malik cast his gaze back to the two steel doors. They glinted without light, looming and waiting for him to make his final choice.

"To choose life," Malik murmured softly, "would be awfully selfish of me, don't you think?"

"How so?" the spirit queried in mild interest.

"It means that I take away the guarantee of their future," Malik said. How could he take away Ryou's chance at life? How could he take away Bakura's chance to go on? It wasn't something that he could do. They would never do that to him, if the roles were switched. "It's wrong."

Malik smiled wryly. It was obvious which decision he had to make. It was the only real option that he had.

A handle, on the door to his left, materialized.

"Since you so like role-reversal," Marik's expression was nearly a sneer, "then take this into consideration, foolish boy. If Ryou were in your place, standing here with Bakura, would you want him to choose life over death, even if it meant that you couldn't be sure of your own survival?"

Malik's eyes widened. "Of course I would. Ryou couldn't possibly-"

"Then why," Marik interrupted, "can you?"

Malik stopped dead, shocked by the realization that Marik had just caught him with. Ryou would want Malik to live. He would be angry and hurt if he found out that Malik had chosen death just for the knowledge that Ryou and Bakura would survive. Ryou would never forgive him, if he did that.

Very suddenly, the handle that had appeared on the door flickered and vanished. Very suddenly, Malik's choice was not so clear.

Either way, he was being selfish. Peace of mind. Could he take a friend away from Ryou, cause another loss, simply for that peace of mind that Ryou would live? Would Ryou be happy in that world, especially after the loss of his father?

"Can you continue to take life from him, like that?" Marik queried, his voice almost pleasant. "He's already suffered tragedy. Will you make it happen again?"

Malik didn't know.

Could he do that?

It sounded just as cruel as taking away Ryou's future.

"You may not take the future away from him," Marik pointed out. It was true. He had only said that there was no _guarantee_, not that death was absolute.

"Tell me," Malik murmured, voice reverberating off the walls like a ghostly whisper, "what are their chances of living, if I choose to go back?"

To the right, a handle flickered into existence for the briefest of seconds before disappearing again.

"I cannot tell you that," Marik said, voice full of obvious honestly, "because I do not know."

"So they still have a chance?"

"As you will. You being there changes the course of the future into something that the Fates must piece together. They did not foresee...this second option."

"So you're saying that you've screwed with fate," Malik snapped tersely, not really liking the non-answer that Marik had provided him with.

Marik's smile was not friendly. "I do not truly exist, remember? I am a faction of you, which means that Fate does not apply to me. It only applies to me by extension."

"That's awfully presumptuous," Malik snarled, "don't you think?"

"Presumptuous though it may be, I am not wrong."

"How so?"

"I will not tell you."

Malik cursed under his breath. He'd really hoped that Marik would have said how he was changing his fate. He'd hoped that he'd outsmarted him, but maybe outsmarting a part of oneself wasn't the brightest thing to try.

"Choose, Malik."

Malik couldn't stop himself from looking back up to those doors. His choice. He could either die and let his friends live with the burden of his death, or he could live and possibly take away their chance of ever going home.

Neither choice was easy. What he wanted was to...

He turned away.

"You have to remember, Malik," Marik said, "that this choice is not affecting only you."

_"Do you plan to leave us? Let us fight on our own?" _

Startled, Malik whirled back to the doors. Standing there, between him and the iron entrances to his choice of fate, was Ryou.

At first, his eyes widened and his mouth slackened. How in the world had Ryou gotten here? This place...it had to be so deep within the recesses of his mind that it would be impossible for Ryou to get there without extreme meditation and patience. Had they successfully escaped?

It only took him a moment to realize that it was, in fact, _not_ Ryou. It was a copy, something conjured up by this place in his mind. The ghostly image of Ryou was upsetting and entirely unwelcome. He didn't need something like that when he was trying to make a literal life-or-death decision.

"Stop doing this, Marik," Malik hissed in warning, teeth gritted. "This decision is hard enough."

Marik's expression was that of someone who was entire bored with the situation at hand. "I'm not doing it," he answered nonchalantly, examining his fingernails as if he'd seen all of this before. "_You_ are."

_"I would never forgive you, if he died." _Bakura's voice came now, and his shape materialized opposite to Ryou's. He stood in front of the door to Malik's left.

Malik balled his hands into fists. Oh, yes. Add _Bakura_ to the mix. His mind knew exactly how to keep him calm and collected, didn't it?

The Ryou-copy moved to the right and crossed his arms. _"But it's more selfish of you if you don't give me a choice. If _I_ could choose-"_

The Bakura-copy cut the Ryou-copy off with a wave of its hand. _"Would you do to Malik exactly what he plans to do to you? Would you die and leave him to suffer through so much loss?"_

The Ryou-copy visibly winced, and Malik had to think that, had Ryou actually been there, he would have reacted in exactly the same way.

"Ryou," Malik said, not entirely knowing why he was addressing something made-up like it was the actual thing. Contrary to his knowledge of its falseness, the Ryou-copy turned at the sound of its original's name. "I would never be able to take the life of my friend like that."

_"You're not _taking_ my life," _the copy insisted, hugging its arms to itself in upset frustration.

_"Then what _is_ he doing, dear landlord?"_

_"This is wrong, Malik," _Ryou's copy cried, addressing him directly and ignoring the Bakura-copy's taunts. _"It's like you're committing suicide. Given this kind of choice, you can't just give up on your life. It's not what I'd want."_

_"This isn't about you,"_ Bakura-copy hissed. _"It is not your choice to make."_

"I..." Malik trailed off, frustration welling up inside of him. He fisted his hands, so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white. "I wish I knew what the right choice was," he managed finally, softly.

"It isn't always about the _right_ choice," Marik said, interrupting the scene that he'd seemed previously content to watch from the sidelines. "Sometimes, dear lighter one, it is about the _best_ choice."

All of his intensity and strength was sapped. Malik didn't know what to do anymore. Faced with copies of his two closest friends, everything suddenly seemed even more convoluted than when he'd been alone.

"That's because, even though you must make the decision, the choice is not yours alone. Not in spirit. You are making the choice for many of your loved ones."

_"We want you to come back, Master Malik."_

_"We miss you, brother."_

The voices of his sister and adoptive-brother echoed through the walls, making the foundations of his head spin even harder.

How could he do that to his family? How could he just die without a fight? What would Ishizu think?

_"All I want,"_ her faceless voice whispered, ever the sound of reason, _"is for you to come home to us."_

He didn't know what to do.

How was this even possible? He couldn't make this choice!

Either way, there was too much at stake. He couldn't risk the lives of his friends any more than he could end his own life.

Either way, he was made a monster.

"What's the difference," Malik murmured, "between the best and right choice, Marik?"

Marik smiled, a small smile that was neither mocking nor caring. It just...was. The spirit's cold, violent eyes moved to meet his own. "The right choice is what is moral. It is what your life's teachings say that you _should_ do. It's what you _want _to do."

To choose death, to leave them to suffer, but to at least suffer _alive_.

"The best choice," the wild-haired blonde continued, "is the one that is not necessarily the easiest, nor the one that you _think_ is the best. However, it may prove the most fruitful at the end of your journey."

And was that where he chose life?

_"You can't dwell on the possibility of my dying," _the Ryou-copy whispered, so quietly that Malik barely heard the words. _"It is _my_ choice what to do with _my_ life, just as it is your choice to do what you will with _your_ life."_

_"You're a fool if you think that we're afraid of death."_

Malik's head shot up, to where the Bakura clone was sneering down at him.

_"If either my hikari or I were afraid to die," _his smile was toothy, _"then neither of us would have chosen this path that we walk. You know that, Malik, or else we wouldn't be telling you this now."_

Did he know that?

The fakes rose valid questions, questions that had been lurking in the bowels of his mind since the start. What right did he have to choose the fate of others? Didn't that make him most selfish of all?

_But sometimes, _his mind whispered, _it's okay to be selfish if you do it for the right reasons._

Malik closed his eyes.

_"Let us decide our own fates. Don't bring us into the equation for your survival," _the Ryou-clone begged.

_"Don't be foolish. We can handle ourselves," _the Bakura-clone scoffed.

An eerie smile played upon Marik's lips.

"You're ready now," the dark being murmured, his voice pleased. Malik opened his eyes slowly, to where Marik was already beginning to disappear from view.

A door handle flickered into view - but this time it stayed in place. Malik had made his choice. His final choice.

Marik's form shimmered, like a mirage, before beginning to fade away entirely.

_"Now."_

Marik's voice urged Malik forward, his footsteps echoing through the dark chamber. His eyes were set on that door handle, the door handle that would lead him to the end. The end of this journey.

The final choice.

He smiled. It was interesting that it had come down to this - down to Malik choosing the course of Fate. Of all people, he hadn't thought that he'd be given such a powerful hand.

_"Choose a door."_

The last thing to vanish was Marik's Cheshire cat grin.

It Will Continue.

The death scene was deliberately altered from that of the dream.

Now, move on to the epilogue!


	29. No Strings Attached: Epilogue

I posted the epilogue right away for two reasons. One: when I said the last chapter, I meant it. This was the last upload for No Strings Attached.

Two: Well, you'll see. You're all probably going to want to kill me for this epilogue, but... I don't want to give away the ending of chapter twenty-eight. That's for the sequel. Muahaha!

Wow, guys. Just...just wow. This had to have been the most epic writing ride that I've ever been on. I know it's so, so very corny that I'm getting choked up, but I can't believe that this is over.

Well...for now. :D

I'm glad that I got to write this. And I'm double glad that this story hit it off as well as it did. Thank you, so, so much. All of you. I don't know if I'd have completed it without everyone who's joined me on this journey.

So, then, this is for you.

Disclaimer: For the last time in this story, I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or Harry Potter. But a girl can dream, can't she?

No Strings Attached

Epilogue

The Shadows were whispering.

A young man shivered in the cold breeze, pulling his jacket up around his chin. He hated cold weather. He really, really did.

This day, however, he was only partly concerned over the weather. His mind was more focused on a considerably more important fact:

Somewhere, somehow, some_thing_ had upset the balance of the Shadows.

"Yugi, are you okay?"

He glanced up to the curious but worried face of the brown-haired young woman he was walking with. She had her coat pulled tightly around her, her head buried down and her shoulders held high, trying to find some semblance of warmth in the cool, Japan air.

It took him a moment, but finally he nodded. "Yeah," he said entirely unconvincingly, "I'm fine, Anzu."

She sighed, grinning in exasperation. "Yugi, I know you. What's _wrong_?"

He glanced out to the empty street.

"I'm feeling...something wrong."

"Something...wrong?" she clarified slowly, rolling the words around her tongue in obvious confusion.

Yugi nodded. "With the Shadow Magic. With its balance."

Anzu's mouth popped open, and her eyebrows drew down in worry. "Is it Ryou?"

"I don't know."

The young woman hugged her arms around herself, shivering. Yugi knew that that shiver hadn't been for the cold. She was worried now, and when Anzu worried about a friend, she really _worried_. Yugi almost regretted having said anything at all. If he couldn't provide her with an answer, it was only going to upset her further.

_"Don't worry, Hikari,"_ a familiar, deep voice rumbled across his mind. _"I'm sure it's nothing."_

After everything that had happened, all of the disaster with Atlantis and Darts and the Orichalcos, Yugi could wish for nothing more than there _being _nothing.

He just wanted calm, for once. Japan, at least, seemed calm enough. Domino City seemed entirely at ease. There seemed to be no magical foul play about.

So, then, what was this feeling?

He suddenly felt a hand curl around his own, startling Yugi from his thoughts. His cheeks turned pink as he looked up into Anzu's worried face.

"Let's go," she said firmly, giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Let's go to your house and call Jonouchi and Honda, okay?"

Nodding numbly, Yugi let Anzu lead him down the street, towards the Game Shop that he called home.

"I hate to think that something's happened," Anzu said after a few moments. "I hate to think that there's something wrong."

"It really could be nothing," Yugi reassured her, using the Pharaoh's words. He just hoped that they'd help.

Thankfully, the words worked, at least a little bit. A small smile formed onto her lips. "Yeah, probably."

As they approached the shop, his grandfather waved from the entrance. Yugi couldn't help but have a grin tug at his lips. His grandpa was always sweeping the front. Always.

"Hey kids," the old man rasped, putting a hand on his side. "What are you two up to, today?"

"Just going in, Grandpa," Yugi answered. "Do you mind?"

The old man laughed. "Not at all, Yugi. Your other friends coming, too?"

"Yes, I think so," Yugi said, scratching the back of his head. His grandfather only nodded in reply, so Yugi gestured for Anzu to head on in. He opened the door for the both of them.

Anzu shrugged out of her coat and stepped out of her shoes, moving into a spare pair of slippers that were usually left for Yugi's friends. She moved to the couch and lay her coat on top of it. She took a moment to stretch before smiling back to Yugi, who was just finishing putting his coat in the closet.

"Your grandfather looks well," she commented.

"Yeah," Yugi agreed, grinning out the window as the old man finished sweeping, turned tail, and went back into the shop. He sighed.

"You don't think it's 'just nothing', do you?" the young woman speculated, leaning against the back of the couch. Her brow creased in evident anxiety. "I don't even have that feeling that your getting, and I don't think it's nothing."

"You're right."

Anzu looked up into Yugi's serious eyes. It was at times like these that he truly looked more like his Yami than he looked like himself. It made the hair on the back of her neck prickle in natural fear. The Pharaoh had a very daunting presence, something which seemed to rub off on Yugi at certain times.

Times like this.

"I don't think it's nothing," Yugi said, his voice quiet, "but it may not affect us at all. Or any of our friends."

Anzu smiled again, but it seemed a little strained. "I hope so. I really, really hope so."

"Me too."

They fell into silence for a moment, and Anzu pulled her phone out of the pocket of the jacket lying beside her. She pressed a few buttons, obviously texting either Jonouchi or Honda, before shutting off the phone and replacing it on top of her coat.

"Jonouchi should be on his way. I'll text Honda in a minute." She said, explaining her actions. Yugi nodded in response.

The silence lapsed again, but only for a moment. It was ended by Anzu's very worried, very tentative question:

"You don't think it's Ryou or Malik, do you?"

Yugi blinked for a moment, before looking away. Yes, he _did_ think that it had something to do with one or both of them. Still, he wasn't going to tell Anzu that.

"I really don't know," he answered, only feeling partially guilty for his half-lie.

Anzu seemed to consider that for a moment before she giggled nervously. "I mean, they're on a road trip in Europe, right? What kind of trouble could they possibly get into in _Europe_?"

Yugi's agreement was only half-hearted. "Yeah. I can't imagine a thing."

But the Shadows only continued to whisper, speaking in tongues that neither Yugi nor the Pharaoh could decipher. Yugi shivered. At that point, he really didn't know _what _to think.

"They're fine," he said, not sure whether he was reassuring Anzu or if he was reassuring himself. "I'm sure they're just fine."

His worst fears would be confirmed, however, when a letter from Ishizu that had been forwarded through Kaiba Corp. landed on his doorstep two days later.

Part I Concludes

Well, there we go. It was short, yes, but it was an epilogue. Epilogues are usually meant to be short. Besides, I was really only looking for a surface-view of what the other characters are going through. Two of them, really, but still. It shows what's happening in Japan. This is immediately post-Orichalcos.

Ishizu's letter would take some time to reach them, especially if Kaiba was being a jerk and decided not to forward it immediately. Even longer if Ishizu couldn't send it right away.

That's really just an explanation for consistency's sake.

So...

It's over. For now.

If you have any questions, I'll answer repeated ones on my profile. Any others, I'll answer through a PM to you. :)

I really, truly do appreciate all of you who have stuck with (and those of you who've just arrived at) this story. I did go through the biggest journey during _No Strings Attached._ I learned a lot about writing and my own personal writing style. I hope to make _Blood-Bound _bigger and better to prove to you how much I've grown.

Thank you to everyone, and I hope to see you all for the sequel (which should be up within a few weeks at the very earliest).

Out-Of-Control-Authoress


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